Mending Hearts
by mysterious advisor
Summary: An AU story of a wedding-to-be, pins and scissors, heavenly coffee and the Welsh sky. Featuring a lovely set of characters, an angsty set of characters and everybody's favourite boys. May you enjoy your reading...
1. Red Brick

Disclaimer: Whatever is it (Torchwood etc.) I don't own it!

Hello, darling readers. Come forth if you dare and scroll down this page (well, maybe not THIS page, but definitely the next one, since this is a meager prologue and the next one is the actual first chapter). May you enjoy your reading...

* * *

It was a two-storey old building made of red brick, located somewhere behind Roald Dahl Plass, in a cobweb of little narrow streets, where you couldn't have fit a car even if you wanted to. It covered an entire corner and gave the old neighbourhood a sense of calm and hospitality, with its white shutters and black iron grates.

On the northern side, a wide window featured several beautifully tailored suits and a sole name: Jones. The tailor shop was quite a view, standing apart from the entire street with its sobriety and particular cleanliness. Had it not been for the exquisite suits, it might have resembled a simple, cold and impersonal office. But those pieces of clothing spoke of such talent and dedication that any by-passer would find himself unconsciously drawn to the shop.

On the eastern side, large windows replaced a former wall and those to peer inside would see coffee machines, along with tables and chairs neatly placed, so that once the small café was opened, they could be brought outside in the shortest time possible; this way, the customers could enjoy both their drinks and the fresh Welsh air. Here and there, flowers and other feminine touches could be noticed, sweetening the view as a whole.

It was a two-storey old building made of red brick, belonging to the Jones family. Everyone on this side of the city knew the Jones family. They knew about the now departed old tailor and still remembered his skilled hands and kind smile. And they also knew about his two children: Rhiannon, the fiery elder sister, and Ianto, the serious younger brother.

* * *

Ok, seriously now. Several days ago I've completed the "Hour" series, which I did most out of need to post this story (I sort of promised myself I wouldn't leave a story unfinished for the sake of another one so, here we are!), and now I'm proud to present "Mending Hearts"... sorry about the mushy, cheesy, overly-sweet title (although let's face it, IT IS CHRISTMAS... still), but I ran out of ideas just when I started thinking about what name I should give this story.

BUT, we'll have Jack, Ianto, Owen, Tosh, Diane, Andy, Annie, Gwen and even Rhys, plus a big and furry black cat... so I hope you'll make it beyond the title and give this a shot.

So... I hope you'll enjoy this (at least as much as you might have enjoyed my other stories, if not more) enough to leave me a comment... you do know that reviews make an author's day, right?


	2. Pins and scissors

Disclaimer: Whatever it is (Torchwood, etc) I don't own it!

And the first chapter is posted at the same time because I'm not the type of evil author to just leave the decor without my and your beloved characters... yet *mwahaha*

But moving on... Enjoy!

* * *

"Welcome to Wales." The flight attendant smiled at the passing people who had just arrived on flight 457 coming from London.

"Thank you, beautiful." Out of the 200 people, the only one who had actually stopped to pay attention was a devilishly handsome man with an American accent, short brown hair, deep blue eyes and a pair of dimples that could bring a smile to a dead man's face. He wore a long coat bearing RAF markings and was currently holding onto a large bag. He winked at her and resumed his way, but not before noticing the blush that had exploded in her cheeks. "Owen!" he waved a hand once he reached the airport waiting hall, having noticed a wiry man trying to make his way through the crowd and reach him.

"Here you are." The man stopped and drew a deep breath of air after escaping the ambush. "Didn't think you'd make it."

"Are you kidding? I'd have flown in from Antarctica just to witness this miracle. Owen Harper getting married! Wouldn't have missed it for anything." He laughed and good-naturedly hit the man over his shoulders, making him stagger.

"Come on, I've got a taxi waiting outside." Owen just grumbled and led his friend out the airport and towards the parking lot. Several minutes later, the bag was safely tucked in the car and the two old mates were on their way to the city. The American studied his companion in silence for a minute before announcing loudly:

"You look like crap."

"Thanks." Owen's eyes glared at him from above dark circles and wrinkled skin. True, the doctor had always looked several years older than his actual age and more or less like a skeleton… but the man he now stared at was far worse.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes. I love her and I've been trying to get her to do this for years now. I'm glad she finally accepted."

"But what if she's not the one?"

"Just like Katie wasn't?"

"Owen, I didn't fly down here to have a fight with you. I came here because I expected to see you happy, fulfilled, ecstatic, damn it! But this, this is even worse than your usual self." The American argued.

"I'm not changing my mind." He replied with one last glare and turned to look out the window at the awaking city. "We'll leave your stuff at the hotel and then I'm taking you for a tour and a place to get you a suit."

"A suit?"

"I'm not having my best man cosplaying at my wedding, so don't even think about it! Besides, the guy made me a suit from scratch in no time and we are working within a timeframe here. Just don't hit on him too much." The doctor muttered under his breath.

"Why? Is he that hot?"

* * *

"Time to open up!" Ianto Jones announced loudly as he unlocked and pulled away the wide doors of the café. A moment later a fair-haired man appeared, and the two began bringing out the chairs and tables, neatly spreading them in front of the shop. After only five minutes, the task was done and a lovely scent filled the street, already attracting the first set of customers.

"Ah, good morning Mr. and Mrs. Thompson! Will you be having your usual?" a cheerful voice was heard as Rhiannon Davies (nee Jones) bounded out of the shop carrying a tray filled with small menus.

Having finished his chorus, Ianto left his sister in charge of the caffeine-related part and, passing through a small hallway and a set of heavy curtains, he entered his territory, walking towards the tailor shop's door in order to unlock it and turn the schedule sign.

"Annie, are all the needles accounted for?" He asked while checking some material samples at the counter. A blonde head popped through the curtains that hid the entrance to the dressing rooms.

"Yes, sir." The girl smiled and disappeared once more.

"Andy!" He raised his voice and waited for the fair-haired man to make himself present.

"What's up?"

"When are the new materials arriving?"

"Today at ten o'clock." He answered calmly and grinned. "I warned Mr. Fort that he won't receive any coffee for a week, if our order is late today."

"Good thinking." A small smile appeared on the stoic young man's face and that made Andy practically beam. "Annie, please bring out Dr. Harper's suit."

"Yes, sir." Came the prompt answer followed by some rustle noises.

As if on queue, said man walked in front of the shop and entered, for the first time accompanied. And not by the bride apparently, but the best man, perhaps? Either that, or the doctor was one surprising fellow. Ianto Jones merely raised an eyebrow.

"Good morning." He greeted both men.

"Morning, mate." Owen answered. "I'm here for the fitting and I've also brought…" he turned to Jack, but stopped short when he noticed the American's widened eyes and open mouth. "Erm, my best man. He's going to need a suit as well."

"Alright." The Welshman nodded and both of them turned expectantly towards the third party, who apparently had yet to wake up from a major day-dream. After a long moment of silence, Owen coughed… loudly. "Sir?"

"Oh, red is so your colour!" was the first thing that Jack managed to articulate since entering the shop. Eyes never leaving the tailor's, he stepped closer to the counter that separated him from the man in red shirt, immaculate suit and black tie. "Jack. Jack Harkness, but please, just Jack." He extended a hand and grabbed onto the tailor's unexpectedly. Ianto's hand was frozen cold, while Jack's could have probably kindled a bonfire.

"Jones, Ianto Jones. Nice to meet you." He spoke carefully, clearly uneasy and unaccustomed to such a situation, while trying to free his fingers.

"For heaven's sake, Jack, don't molest my tailor!" Owen complained loudly.

"If you will just follow me to the dressing room." He finally got his hand back to himself, signalled the two men to follow him behind the counter and the heavy curtains, into a large room filled with mirrors and stools. Even more curtains betrayed the existence of three other separate cabins. A pretty blonde girl waited for them, holding a black suit, a white shirt and a grey cravat. She smiled brightly and blushed when the American winked at her.

"I'll take that." Owen grabbed the clothes and disappeared, clearly already familiarised with the shop's geography. Ianto raised his hands expectantly and Jack stared blankly at him.

"If I may have your coat. I need to be able to take your measures for the suit." Despite the neutral tone and beyond mere professional manner of conduct, those words were more than enough incentive for Jack's mind to drown in gutter.

"Oh, you can take much more than just my coat! In fact, I'm asking you to." He got off the large blue thing off his shoulders in less than a second, deposited it in the tailor's arms and went on to unbutton his shirt.

"That's not necessary, I assure you." The young man promptly stopped the American before getting himself a strip show.

"But wouldn't it be better to take my measures with as few layers on as possible? You know, to make sure that suit will fit me perfectly?" he asked with a leer.

"No, it wouldn't. Trust me. That's why I'm a tailor and not a secret agent fighting aliens." He looked up at Jack, raised the man's arms and prepared his metre.

"Then could you perhaps lose the shirt?" Jack whispered and grinned dangerously as Ianto's baby blue eyes glared at him and his face turned a very interesting shade of red… quite similar to the one of his shirt's.

"Excuse me?" He was now bordering either panic or anger, and Jack suddenly regretted his words.

"Don't mind me, please. I'm just a terrible flirt and sometimes things like that just fly out of my mouth. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry."

"Just don't let it happen again." Ianto managed to speak after a short while, once he had recomposed himself. He held Jack's arms up again and proceeded in taking his measures quickly, precisely and silently. The moment he was finished, Owen came out of the private cabin. Despite the amazing suit, he still looked like a skeleton.

"Well?" The groom-to-be inquired, glancing at his surprisingly quiet friend.

"I'll be right back, I need to bring out the samples for Mr. Harkness' suit."

"No need. Make it the same as mine, but with a simple black cravat." Owen explained and the young tailor nodded. Signalling the man to stand up on the stool in the middle of the room, Ianto began inspecting his work.

"Are the trousers long enough? Do you feel their too tight?"

"Nope." He answered and glanced at Jack once more. But the American was solemnly gazing at the tailor… and his arse. Owen rolled his eyes and kept answering the questions sent his way. Ten minutes later, he stepped off the stool, pleased by the fact that this tailor, despite the age, had got everything perfect from the first attempt. "What smells that good?" he asked the moment he returned from the private cabin for the last time.

"Coffee. Around the corner there is a small coffee shop. And yes, customers of the tailor shop do get bonuses." Ianto explained and pointed the two men in the correct direction.

"So when should we return?"

"Your suit should be ready by the day after tomorrow, but Mr. Harkness will have to come back for a couple of fittings at least, the first one around the same time."

"The day after tomorrow it is then. Cheers mate." Owen exited the shop.

"See you around gorgeous." Jack huskily spoke and, after letting his eyes roam over the Welshman once more, followed his friend.

Behind them, Ianto Jones allowed his usual mask to morph into a lost look for a moment, then returned to his stoic self and tried to pay no more heed to Jack Harkness.

* * *

Around the corner, however, a certain blue-eyed American was, quite on the contrary, paying a lot of heed to the young tailor, over an amazing cup of coffee.

"Here you go, darling." A tall dark-haired woman with a lovely smile walked out of the small café, with a tray bearing two cups of the heavenly-smelling brew. She deposited them of the table and giggled as the two men dug in, despite the liquid's high temperature.

"Wow!" Jack was the one to exclaim his thanks. "I can foresee a lot of trips to Cardiff in the near future." Owen just sent him a dirty look. "Good-looking men and orgasmic coffee? So far even London can't beat that. This is amazing!" He looked up at the woman who resembled more a kindergarten teacher than a waitress.

"All the praises need to go to my brother. Around the corner, just the way you came and into the tailor shop." Jack's mouth fell open for the second time that morning… and it wasn't even nine yet.

"You mean… Mr. Jones…"

"Oh, you met Ianto?" she seemed delighted.

"He's making a couple of suits for us." Owen explained.

"You don't sound from around here, but you've sure made a good choice. I think he's the best tailor in the entire city, but he's too modest to even consider something like that. Oh, I'm so glad he came back from London and started these two shops. I'd have never managed all this on my own." She was her brother's polar opposite: cheerful, talkative and very, very giggly. Had it not been for the button nose, one would've found it impossible to believe the two were related at all. "Oh, but I'm ranting away. I'll just be inside if you need me." She bestowed upon them another blinding smile and disappeared.

"Well, that was interesting. I had the feeling the shops were tied somehow. And Jack, don't even think about it." The doctor sternly waved a finger at his friend.

"I don't know what you mean!"

"Good and fast tailors are impossible to be found and I really don't want my pants to fall down during the ceremony. Or yours!"

"God, you're no fun! This whole thing is destroying you." The American retorted.

"Leave it!"

"Can't you see? You're totally changed. I don't even recognize you anymore. Even your sarcasm has lost its usual wit."

"I love her, Jack. I've been a wreck since Katie died and Diane helped me through a lot. I've been trying to get her to marry me for too long to let this chance pass."

"Even if it's going to kill you?"

"Don't make such a drama out of everything. It's going to be fine."

"But that's just it! Love is supposed to be great, intoxicating, addictive and mad. Love is supposed to be food for the soul; it's supposed to make you want to fly!"

"It's a chemical reaction, you idiot, not schizophrenia or a magic pill!"

"Yeah, but it's a great reaction! It's the kind of thing that makes you want to be with someone even if they're eighty, bald and ill… or worse, even if you're eighty, bald and ill." By now, Jack was making wide gestures and speaking passionately, attracting not necessarily desired attention. "How long do you think Diane is going to stay by your side? Would she stay if you were eighty, bald and ill?"

"But I'm not!" Owen nearly bit his words.

"But one day you will be…"

"Right, and what makes you such an expert? Two utterly failed relationships and a lifetime of adoration for a man who barely sees you?" the doctor exploded, but immediately regretted his words. Jack stared down at his empty cup. "Look, I don't want to fight you. You're my best mate, despite your terrible character and huge ego."

"Would you like a hug?" Jack asked with a sigh, but an honest smile on his lips.

"No! But thanks for offering. Um, excuse me, Miss!" he raised his voice and an arm, eyes searching for the dark-haired woman.

"Anything else I can get for you?" she appeared again.

"Just tell us how much we owe you." The doctor returned her smile for the first time, while Jack already had his wallet ready.

"Are you Dr. Harper and Mr. Harkness?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Then it's on the house." She grinned at their puzzled expressions. "Ianto said so, and if you've got any problem with that, take it up to him."

* * *

Thank you for your time! See you next chapter!

Oh and please review!


	3. Coffee and pillows

Disclaimer: I don't own it (Torchwood, Doraemon, etc.) Also, I have absolutely nothing against emo people/fans... especially considering I used to look like one myself ^^ (ok, more towards the rock part)

Because you've been good and reviewed and added this story to your alerts (and especially because I've had this chapter written down for some time now), you get a part before New Year's, with the promise for more to come soon. So stay tuned.

Warnings: perhaps a bit of OOCness and definitely weirdness regarding some reactions, but, rest assured, lovely readers, all will be explained in time ;)

May you enjoy your reading...

* * *

Approximately one hour after the two friends departed from both of Ianto's shops, familiar squeaks and shuffles were heard on the stairs that connected the two floors with the ground one. The noises couldn't be heard in either the tailor shop or the café and yet, just as every other morning, the hallway door opened quietly and in came the flawlessly clad tailor himself, holding a large multicoloured mug. And just as every other morning, on the stairs sat a young Japanese woman dressed in pyjamas and wearing fluffy bunny slippers, mind less than half awake and face hidden in a large Doraemon pillow she held in her arms. Once the scent reached her invisible nose, a hand shot up to received the blessed drink and a mumbled thank-you was heard from the pillow's general direction.

"You're welcome. You know, mornings would be much nicer to you if you would just go to bed earlier." The young tailor sounded almost fatherly.

"I can't help it if half of my customers live on the other side of the planet. Websites don't just create themselves, you know." She pouted adorably once she raised her face, strands of black hair falling out of the messy short plait she always wore to bed.

"Alright, alright!" Ianto gave up and raised his hands in mock surrender. "Do you have anything to eat for breakfast?" he inquired and smiled when he received a second pout as answer. "Feel free to rummage through my fridge. And when I say rummage, I mean it! I've got healthy food in there that I don't want to see next time I enter my kitchen." He waved a long finger at her.

"Remind me to pay the bill next time we go shopping." She smiled sleepily and took a gulp of the dark liquid.

"You know that's not necessary. I always end up buying too much anyway. Besides, you're never late with the rent, so consider that a bonus." He returned her smile and winked. "I've got some customers programmed so I have to return in the front. Will you be ok?"

"Sure. Thanks for looking after me, Ianto." She called out after him, clutching the pillow tighter to her chest.

Ever since returning from Japan on her own, despite her family's protests, she had worked hard in order to keep herself in school and away from trouble, which, somehow, had always seemed to find her, especially since she had been the designated "campus hacker" during college.

But then, her knight in shinning armour had appeared, one late rainy evening, during a council meeting at Trinity College in London. That night she had met Ianto Jones, a student rumoured to be on the verge of becoming one of the best clothing designers in the whole country, if not the entire Europe, after signing up for several national and international competitions and having great success.

Despite the flamboyancy of his courses, professors and colleagues, Ianto Jones seemed to be the typical Englishman: stiff upper lip, family honour and everything. But, that night, willingly or not, student Ianto Jones had saved her seat in the college and, most likely, her life, even thought she had been just a stranger with a completely different degree.

Once the whole debacle had been solved, she'd come to learn quite a lot about the young man, to actually notice him. Somehow, again despite all that his job usually included, he was a specialist at becoming invisible and passing unnoticed. He was like a ninja… only better, she had concluded the first time she'd joined him for a meal.

Despite all appearances, Ianto Jones was nowhere near the typical Englishman. On the contrary, he was an incredibly talented, albeit stoic and silent Welshman, with a lovely accent, an incredible skill at coffee-making and a perfect girlfriend… or so they had all believed.

Toshiko Sato had become friends with Ianto Jones during their last year at the esteemed University. And in the same year, he was bound to marry his girlfriend of almost twenty-four months: the lovely Lisa Hallet. Unfortunately, the wedding hadn't exactly occurred, as the future researcher fled the ceremony without as much as a word, leaving behind their distressed friends and a wrecked Ianto. That night, approximately six months into their friendship, Toshiko had returned his gesture, repaying him for saving her life on that fated rainy evening. The next day, they graduated and, in spite of all expectations, Ianto Jones dropped everything and returned to Cardiff, Wales, with his best friend and her huge Doraemon pillow in tow, where he took over his father's tailor shop, also adding a small coffee business in order to keep his sister busy and off his back. In the same building, right above his own quarters, he leased the whole second storey to the computer genius, on the condition that she would never use the place for anything illegal.

So, there she was, sitting on the house stairs at ten o'clock in the morning, enjoying a freshly brewed coffee and trying to wake herself up. And she wouldn't change that for anything in the world.

"So, Rhiannon told me you had some interesting customers yesterday." She brought up the subject during their usual shopping trip, the following day. The young man turned towards her with a raised eyebrow.

"And you mention this barely now?"

"Come on, I was busy yesterday… and besides, every time we try to have a more… private conversation in that house, your sister finds us and joins in… even if we're hiding… like that time you got me in the broom closet in order to test your new coffee flavours. I decided on the new hazelnut, by the way." She added with a wide smile and a wink.

"Good point. And grab that bag in you want more of it." He paused the cart and waited for his friend to take a bag of hazelnuts from the shelf they were currently passing.

"So? Spill." She commanded and added another bag, this time of pistachio.

"There is nothing to spill."

"Don't give me that crap, Ianto. I'm your best friend and there's nothing you can keep away from me… well, almost nothing, but definitely not this! And I know you were in a good mood yesterday. You even winked at me!"

"So?"

"So you never ever wink. It goes against your whole "emo" attitude."

"I'm not emo!"

"That's not what I meant."

"I should have longer, darker hair and a kink for make-up in order to be emo."

"Come on, Ianto. Don't make me beg for details and make a scene. You know I'm capable of it." She warned and almost cheered her victory when she heard his sigh.

"Fine! But it's not a big deal. He is one of my customers' best friend and he was dragged in yesterday in order to get a best man suit."

"He?" Tosh squealed in surprise.

"Yes, he. He flirted with me… a lot, which was kind of surprising… and he's coming back for a fitting tomorrow." He admitted, a faint blush spreading over his cheeks.

"And do you like him?"

"He's a customer. I have to like him."

"You know what I mean." Tosh waved a finger at him.

"I don't know."

"God Ianto. Your answers are so frustrating sometimes. Come on, this is me you're talking to. I haven't had some action in a while either, but I can still tell if I like someone or not." He just sighed again.

"I'm not gay… or I don't think I am… after Lisa… I just wanted to drown myself in work and forget about everything… and I guess it worked, since I forgot how to even respond to flirting, let alone flirt back." He let out a self-deprecating laugh and immediately found himself enveloped in a hug, right there, in the middle of the store.

"Don't worry. You're not alone."

"Thanks, Tosh." He smiled and hugged her back, squeezing her hard.

"Ianto?" a voice made him turn around, arms still full of Japanese female and everything, and meet a very surprised pair of deep blue eyes.

"Mr. Harkness!" he almost exclaimed and finally let go of Tosh, who was now carefully eyeing the American. "Um, Tosh, meet Jack Harkness, the customer I believe Rhia told you about. Mr. Harkness, this is Toshiko Sato, my best friend." After a short moment of complete tension, both strangers broke out in wide smiles.

"Hi, so glad to meet you." The computer genius practically hopped up to the tall man and shook his hand vigorously.

"Likewise." He answered, dimples at full power. "So, best friend? Guess he must've done something awfully good to receive that hug." He turned towards the young tailor and winked.

"Nope. Just Ianto being… well, Ianto. So, I hear you're going to be a best man."

"Yeah. My best mate is getting married."

"Congratulations." Her smile widened sincerely.

"To a shrew." Jack went on and watched amusedly as the woman's face almost fell.

"Ouch. Sorry to hear about that."

"Doesn't matter. I just hope he'll wake up before it's too late." He shrugged his shoulders and turned once again towards the tailor. "So, what brings you here at this hour?" he asked and glanced at their cart. "Seeds?"

"Yes, Ianto's trying some new recipes and since I'm his number one friend and customer, I must bring out my own input to the whole business." She beamed.

"Really? And, pray tell, what must a man do in order to receive an invitation to this special event?" his eyes widened like a child's in the middle of a candy store.

"Let's ask the master himself." Tosh giggled and the two turned towards him.

"Well…" he started stammering and blushing under their intense gazes. "Nothing, actually. Besides, it will take a while before I get the mixes properly, so there's no rush." He answered and added some chocolate and cinnamon to the items in the cart. Jack's shoulders' slumped and even Tosh pouted. Ianto rolled his eyes at their reactions and continued, as if speaking to a couple of petulant children upset for not getting their way. "Why don't we celebrate your last fitting with my new recipes?" the two began grinning again and Tosh bounded back to him and into his arms… only to be followed by Jack. Blood pooled right back into the young man's cheeks once more, as he found himself surrounded by a two very different pairs of arms. "Alright, I accepted already. Don't make a scene, please." He quietly spoke, but got his wish fulfilled.

"Can't wait. So, what time should I come tomorrow?" Jack asked, but remained only one step away from him.

"Whenever it's good for you."

"Alright. See you tomorrow then. And Miss Sato, it's been a pleasure." He grinned down at the Japanese woman and actually kissed her hand before winking at him and leaving.

"I think you like him." Tosh announced cheerfully the moment they were alone again.

"He's American and he's here only because of his friend. That means that after the wedding, he'll probably never step on Welsh ground again."

"Come on, Ianto. It's been ages since Lisa. You should move on." She whined.

"Yes, but not with someone who's just going to leave. No, if I'm to do this, I'll do it with someone serious." He decided and wheeled the cart further down the aisle.

"How do you know he's not serious?"

"Drop it, Tosh. Please." He almost begged and remained silent for the rest of the evening. Toshiko just held onto his left arm and dropped her head on his shoulder, attempting to offer him as much consolation as possible, silently asking him not to hide back the shell that had become part of his life after his "almost-wedding".

* * *

As expected, Ianto didn't see Jack for 24 more hours, during which he'd had plenty of time to think about this sudden development of his generally inexistent love-life and evade both Tosh and Rhiannon, who, upon hearing about the scene in the supermarket, had begun an entire campaign of hunting him down for details.

"Annie! Get the suits for Dr. Harper out!" He raised his voice and didn't even wait for the groom-to-be to appear from around the corner, walking to the door and holding it open. A second later, a party of three, this time, appeared: Owen Harper, Jack Harkness and a beautiful woman, who Ianto concluded had to be the future bride. "Good morning." He greeted them.

"Morning mate!" the medic nodded his way.

"Good morning." The woman followed suit.

"Hello beautiful." The full Harkness grin hit him like a speeding truck, perfect white teeth, dimples and all.

"As usual, you know where the dressing rooms are…" he shut the door and herded the group in the correct direction.

"I want to thank you for taking this order on such a short notice and to assure you that there will be no hard feelings if the suits end up crooked or worse. After all, you haven't had too much time on your hands." The woman zeroed on him the moment Jack and Owen disappeared in the private cabins. Ianto suddenly stiffened and snapped his head towards her, desperately trying not to glare at the patronising woman. A step further away, Annie was staring lost at the bride-to-be, shocked by the fact that someone had dared to speak in that manner to her boss.

"Don't worry, Miss. The suits will come out perfect." He replied, biting the last word. The woman only smiled at him with wide, innocent eyes. Apparently Jack hadn't been haste at all in judging his best friend's future wife.

"Personally, I wouldn't have had a problem with just going through with this, but Owen wanted a real wedding… so we struggle to make everything perfect." She spoke again and sent him an unreadable look. Thankfully, Jack had chosen that moment to stumble into the room and almost leaped onto the stool, apparently very eager to get the tailor's entire attention.

"How does it feel? Too tight around the shoulders?" he turned to the ecstatic American.

"Not the shoulders." Jack drawled out and wiggled his eyebrows the moment Ianto looked up and glared at him. "Sorry." He dropped his shoulders and settled to quietly watch the Welshman bustled about with a handful of pins around him.

"Tada!" Owen came out as well and presented his suit-clad self to his fiancée.

"Looks good… but I think the shirt collar is crooked." The woman spoke and Jack suddenly let out a yelp as a pin poked at his left ankle. He looked down and noticed that the tailor's usually stoic mask was gone, a dark frown marring his features. "And why did you choose such a simple cravat? If the young man here couldn't make a more complicated one, I'm sure we would have been able to find one for sale."

"Ouch!" Jack grumbled again, this time getting a sharp hit in the calf.

"I know we wanted everything perfect, but maybe you should have just bough one from the shopping centre and have it altered if necessary." She dropped the bomb and Ianto unconsciously prepared himself to attack Jack's thigh, when the American's hand stopped him.

"I'll say it beforehand: ow!" he smiled widely as Ianto turned red, realising exactly what he'd been doing.

"Well, I think it came out amazing. It's exactly how I wanted it and Mr. Jones here did an outstanding job." The medic praised the young tailor with a small smile and tired sigh.

"Sorry." Ianto grumbled and pushed the pin in the soft fabric carefully, no longer abusing his customer's skin.

"No problem. I like you better when you act naturally, no mask on, anyway." He spoke softly, leaning towards the younger man, maintaining their eye-contact, already having forgotten about the couple several metres away. Even though it became obvious that the American was bound to kiss him, Ianto didn't move… or, at least, didn't plan to move until a quiet "mreow" reached their ears. "Ianto, are you part cat?" the question seemed incredibly dumb and was obviously meant to be a joke, but the tailor panicked instead of smiling.

"Damn." He turned away from the stool and began moving around all the curtains. "Annie, he's here again." He announced, signalling the blonde girl to help him. The noise was heard again, this time loud enough to be noticed by the couple as well.

"Was that a cat?" the bride-to-be turned sharply, while Owen just smiled.

"I'm afraid so. He always gets in here somehow. I've been trying to keep him out, but he always finds a way." Ianto sounded exasperated as he went on checking every corner. Suddenly, Jack stepped down from the stool, walked to the cabin currently holding his clothes and emerged a moment later, with an armful of 10 pound black feline.

"Here we go." He smiled as the tomcat bumped his chin with his nose, obviously loving the attention.

"It's black." The woman spluttered and almost ran out of the dressing room.

"Don't worry, I'll get her." Owen followed in her steps, but not before halting in front of Jack in order to pet the soaring feline.

"And who might this be?" the American smirked the moment they were left alone, Annie having gone after the couple outside in order to offer them some complementary coffee.

"Bluffy."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. He is the offspring of my childhood cat, whom my entire family believed to be a tomcat until, one fated night of April, "he" turned out to be in labour, not just fat. This devil was the first one and we called him that because we though the cat was bluffing. In my family most cats are gluttons for attention. Bluff here generally finds it funny to go to Tosh's floor and stand outside in the farthest corner of some windowsill in order to watch birds, thus giving me, Tosh or Rhia occasional heart attacks." He walked to Jack and held out his arms, the black devil gracefully leaping onto his master, despite all his weight and tremendous amount of fur.

"He's gorgeous." Jack commented as he kept petting the cat. "Just like him master." Two pairs of blue eyes locked onto each other, until the spoiled feline made its presence noted once more.

"I'd better get him upstairs again. Be back in a moment."

"Wait a second. Who's Rhia?" Jack asked and held his breath while waiting for the answer.

"My sister. I think you met her last time you came here." Ianto replied with a small, almost disbelieving smile.

"Tall, dark hair, dark eyes… giggly?"

"That would be her."

"Cute button nose? Just like her older brother?" Ianto scowled.

"Younger brother."

"You're kidding!" Jack exclaimed and ogled at the tailor. "Wait a minute. How old are you anyway?"

"You're so subtle. And besides, shouldn't you at least buy me a drink or something before asking such personal questions?" he shot back.

"I'm paying you for my suit."

"Dr. Harper is paying me for both suits." Ianto stiffened again, this time mask falling back in its usual place. Even Bluffy, if his masters arms, turned into a stiff brush of black fur and narrowed his green eyes dangerously.

"It was a joke." Jack quietly spoke, eyeing both males carefully. Somehow, during the past minute, he had managed to insult the tailor. The problem was that he had no idea what exactly he had said wrong and why his jokes were no longer considered as such. And, for a man whose path in life had been quite filled with bumps, he prided himself with the fact that he knew when he crossed the lines and was capable of apologising for such "lapses in judgement". But, this time, he was lost.

"Excuse me." Ianto mumbled and disappeared through the curtains with the black devil. A short while later he returned and silently finished the marks on Jack's future suit, after having assured the future bride that she wasn't going to see black fur in his shop again. He ended his tasks quickly, in a heavy silence, focusing on every pin and line. For once, the American also kept him mouth tightly shut, not daring to open it even for a deep breath.

Twenty minutes later, Dr. Owen Harper and his fiancée calmly left the shop with several words of goodbye on their lips. Jack Harkness followed them as quiet as a tomb, only daring to glance back at the young man once he was outside the shop, through the large windows

* * *

For those of you who demanded to know why there wasn't any Tosh, I believe you can breathe easy now ;)

If you enjoyed this bit and wish for more, please feel free to abuse the review link below. Thank you for your time!


	4. Marathons and cars

Happy New Year, everyone! May this new year bring all of us inspiration and success! (and whatever else you guys wish for *wink wink*)

Disclaimer: I don't own it, whatever it is (Torchwood, Rover, etc.)

May you enjoy your reading...

* * *

Thirty-five years of flirting (his first moves had apparently been noted during his first hours of life, when he had been oddly smiling at all the beautiful nurses in the maternity, while all other newborns just screamed) and he found himself tongue-tied and incapable to react at the crossing into uncharted territory… also known as Ianto Jones' threshold.

As Jack Harkness strolled down the empty streets of Cardiff the next morning, he kept replaying over and over the last conversation he'd had with the young tailor, trying to figure out when exactly he had crossed over the apparently invisible line that separated "natural" Ianto from "careful, cautious, masked" Ianto. And while the latter was the most present of the two, he much more preferred the former, especially after having caught a glimpse or two of him.

Suddenly, he stopped and realised, among other things, that his stroll had turned into a marathon and that he had unconsciously reached the building made of red brick that sheltered the tailor shop. And that moment, while trying to catch his laboured breath, Jack Harkness understood something: Ianto Jones was a mystery wrapped up in a lovely package and he wanted to be the one to tear down that wrapping paper and red bow and be the first and only to discover the surprise inside. His instinct had never been mistaken before and he had a feeling he wasn't mistaken now either.

So, with a deep breath and a "now-or-never" thought, he walked up to the tailor shop's door and pulled the handle roughly… only to find the door locked… securely so.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" the man in the long blue coat let out a fierce roar, startling a couple of pigeons that had flown down from the surrounding rooftops in order to peck at the occasional breadcrumbs fallen on the pavement.

"Can I help you?" a fair-haired head appeared from around the corner.

"Um, yes. Hi, I'm a customer here and I was wondering if the tailor shop is open… today…"

"Ah, the American best man." The stranger walked around the corner entirely. He was wearing one of the café's aprons and a calm smile. "I'm afraid the tailor shop doesn't open until two o'clock today. You see, it's Wednesday." Jack answered him with a blank stare, obviously unaware of the local habit of keeping the shop closed at such an unusual hour during the week. "Of course, you're not from around here…" the man understood and started stammering. He was sort of cute and appeared to be a very nice fellow, thus making Jack wonder once again why the hell he hadn't visited Cardiff during his teenage years. Apparently everyone here was lovely and quite attractive. But, as things were, Jack couldn't help but be saddened, and a bit concerned, by the fact that he wasn't even trying to flirt with the ginger-head, given that he was a man on a mission. "The boss takes his niece to the pool on Wednesdays. You see, she has some breathing problems and an asthma tendency, so she's been recommended to take up swimming. But don't worry, he's never late, so we'll be open at two o'clock sharp." The man explained and smiled again. For a long moment, Jack remained unmoved, staring at the ground below his feet. Finally he looked up and curtly spoke back.

"Thank you. That would be all." He turned around and started down the street, once again at an almost breakneck speed.

"What the hell have you been doing? Taking showers with your coat on? I know you love that blasted old thing, but you're getting ridiculous!" Owen Harper exclaimed when, half an hour later, his best mate entered his small, but cosy apartment, looking as if he had run to London and back.

"You want to know what's ridiculous? I'll tell you what is ridiculous! Five women and three men gave me the look this morning and I just stared or, worse, glared back at them! No flirting, no innuendo, not even a wink! One tiny wink! Not to mention the lovely ginger-head, almost blonde that works in Mr. Jones' café and whom I would've usually chosen as breakfast menu. Nothing!" Jack started moving about the living room, gesturing dramatically.

"You don't have a fitting scheduled today. What the hell were you doing down there?" Owen inquired while skimming through the morning paper, not even bothering to look up at his distressed friend.

"Well…"

"Oh, for Heaven's sake… I thought I asked you not to flirt with the kid…" the medic finally closed the newspaper and threw it on the table, in front of him.

"He's hardly a "kid"!"

"Jack…"

"I know what you're going to say and don't worry, I haven't forgotten that this month's star is Diane!"

"That's not what I was going to say."

"Then what? Your pants aren't going to drop in the middle of the ceremony… and, sadly, neither will mine…"

"You've been through this before, Harkness."

"Not like this."

"You know, I remember a very similar dialogue occurring not even a week ago. Funny thing, how our roles changed." Owen sniggered.

"Yeah right."

"I've got only two words for you, mate: John fucking Hart. Remember how that came out in the end?"

"That was a very long time ago!"

"Look, I'm trying to get married here. And for that, I need a calm best man. So, I'm going to give you the same advice I used back when we were in college: fuck him, get him out of your system and never see him again. It shouldn't be that hard, especially concerning you."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because my gut feeling tells me he's different."

"That's just because he hasn't given in to you yet. He's playing hard to get, but in the end he'll turn out just the same. Look at you, Jack. You're a great human specimen, you have all the success and charm you could possibly want… generally, you have a great life which you systematically try to overrun by special cases. Do you really need me to point out the highlights?" Owen asked, eyes staring up at him almost accusingly.

"No!"

"John Hart: in and out of rehab more times than I can count. You thought you could get him back on track, but you nearly ended up a wreck yourself. Then came Rose Tyler and her mysterious Doctor Smith. And boy, was that explosive. One minute I see you dancing with her in some London club, the next I hear about how you've left the academy for a year in order to have a world tour with those two. Then I receive a phone call six months later and you fly down from a bloody war-zone with an entire leg almost missing. Not to mention that you've run with the same love guru a second time five years ago, and then I could've sworn that you'd finally grown up. And last but not least, we have Gwen Cooper."

"Ugh, don't even go there." Jack turned away from Owen and began stomping down to his designated bedroom.

"Who kept wanting for you, but shagged me for an entire bloody year!"

"I don't have feelings for Gwen!"

"Maybe you don't, but maybe you do. And I can't blame you for that, I'd have to be a hypocrite to do so… but, I've managed to move on… I found Diane…"

"And look where that got you…" Jack turned around and found Owen standing just a few feet behind him. They simply stared at each other.

"I'm happy." The medic glared at his friend.

"You're miserable… Just like I was after all my disastrous relationships. How long until we start charming and shagging our way through the pubs of Great Britain again?" Jack spoke slowly, tiredly, as if pulling the words out of his heart.

"I'm happy." Owen repeated, but this time his eyes were lowered to Jack's feet and his voice was faltering. With a step towards his friend, he held out a small black box, pushing it into his best man's right hand.

"We're all human Owen… and we're entitled to make mistakes… up to the point where those mistakes destroy our lives. You were there to stop me and I'll always be grateful for that… but won't you let me do the same for you?" Jack almost begged as the future groom turned around and left the flat without a single word or glance behind him.

He sighed. All that had been said, or rather, yelled in the past minutes were one big, painful truth. His life had started wonderful, but, somewhere, on the way, had become one tremendous joke. But he could live with that. He could live with knowing that in his old age he would always go back to an empty house and a glass of whiskey. He was tough like that and could take it without shooting a bullet in his skull.

But Owen, unlike him, was just a step away from that bullet. He wasn't exactly needy, but he wanted, no, needed to settle down. That's why he and Katie had been such a lovely couple. They were both creatures that, once they found a perfect mate, nestled. Seven years earlier everything had been perfect: great job, great friends, great life. His best friends were about to get married and he couldn't be more happy for them. And then, reality bit as hard as possible: Jack found Doctor Smith again and disappeared. He returned hopelessly three months later, expecting to see Owen's then-girlfriend of two years in a lovely white dress. Instead, he found his friend in despair and a black suit. She'd been diagnosed with brain tumour and died shortly after. They'd never even seen it coming. All those years of plans and dreams and pure happiness… all gone in a heartbeat.

Then Gwen Cooper, with her freckles, gapped teeth and dark hair, got hired by Torchwood and things went from bad to worse. Drinking, pub brawls, a new body every night… those had become the major headlines in their friendship.

Jack shuffled along the flat's hallway and entered the bathroom instead: he turned on the lights and gazed at his reflection in the large mirror. Who was he kidding? Even if his instinct was right and Ianto Jones was indeed "the one", why should the young tailor want him? A walking, talking and flirting wreck like him? He himself hadn't been in a serious relationship for the past many years… would he even remember how those went on?

* * *

Beep! Beep! Beeeeeeeeeeeeep!

"Lookout!" a voice screamed down the street.

Zdrung!

"Dammit!" the female in the red Rover let out a very unfeminine string of swears, banged her hands on the wheel and got out of the car. In front of her, a nasty scene involving the crash of two vehicles, one of which her own, was displayed. The other car, a dark blue one, held two passengers, both males. "Watch where you're going!"

"I'm sorry, Miss. But I'm quite certain that you should have been the one to watch out." One of the two men came out and sent her a patronising gaze, accompanied by a hint of humour. Was the wanker actually laughing at her?

"Are you blind? That's the stop sign, right there?" she yelled, pointing towards a sign somewhere behind her.

"Yeah, just before the no turning left allowed one." The man answered calmly, while his companion, the actual driver, also got out and began talking hurriedly into his mobile.

"You think you can pull my leg just because I'm a woman, don't you?" she demanded, not turning around to look for the sign and, on the contrary, walking towards him with a confident angry stride.

"You know, you may have a car with an English number, but I can tell from your accent that you're Welsh. Is this, by any means, how you should treat your fellow countrymen upon returning from London?" the man, a typical ginger-head with his weight just a little bit above what should have been considered "lean", smiled at her reaction.

"What are you, some sort of stalker?" she demanded.

"No… it's just that my job requires me to be familiar with this sort of knowledge." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Really? Too bad it doesn't require having a driver who actually knows how to do his own job." She bit her words, her gapped teeth becoming visible for a snarl. The stranger just sighed.

"Look. I can tell you're new in town, so I'm going to let you easy on this one. Just give me your insurance number and we'll consider it done." He spoke as if she were a five-year-old not backing off from demanding her father a chocolate, and not the manager of the R&D division of Torchwood.

"This was your driver's fault! Not mine!"

"Sir, I've got a car coming down here." The said man finally made himself noticed.

"That wasn't necessary. I'm sure we can settle this between us." He turned back to the woman with an expectant smile and received a very unexpected and vicious kick in the shin.

"Bloody idiots! You think you can do something to me even at this hour, in the middle of the city! I'll have the cops on you before you know it." At that precise moment, a police car appeared from around the block, lights and everything, and sped down to their location. "And here they are!" the woman declared triumphantly at the sight of them, earning herself a groan from the fallen man and a disbelieving stare from his driver. "About time! These ones threatened to attack me!" she shouted at the policemen and got the surprise of her life when one of them caught her arms and handcuffed her, while the other offered the fallen man some assistance.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" he kept the others at bay, got up on his own and, without the smallest hesitation, walked to her car, got out her bag and rummaged through it. "Gwen Cooper." He read out loud upon discovering her ID. "Well, Miss Cooper, I'm afraid you're going to have to come with us to the station. Don't worry, we'll have your car towed." He smiled again.

"What?" she shrieked. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"DCI Williams. I don't believe we've met."

* * *

He was definitely mad.

Jack Harkness self-diagnosed himself as he paced back and forth the street entrance next to the tailor shop. He had arrived there approximately three minutes earlier and was still debating whether he should enter or not, pacing around, gesturing, muttering under his breath and fully aware of the fact that all by-passers could see him, but not anyone from either the café or the shop.

Still, at five past two sharp, upon another turn, he found himself face-to-face with his current living and breathing question mark. Jack stopped dead as he met the sight of a perfect-looking Ianto Jones, all wrapped up in a dark red shirt, with a black waistcoat and trousers, and a matching tie, holding a blue-stripped mug. He could see steam rising from the mug and, therefore, had a pretty good idea as to what exactly it contained… unless he had really, really upset the tailor, in which case he was about to receive some perfectly poisoned beverage.

Taking a leap of faith, Jack walked up to him, grabbed the mug and took a small, careful sip. And, at that moment, he found out that he didn't give a damn whether the coffee was poisoned or not, because, taste-wise, it was perfect… heavenly… orgasmic… whatever…

"Thank you. And I'm sorry for whatever it was that I did wrong yesterday."

"No, yesterday was probably my fault. And, you are most welcome." Ianto answered back, but didn't smile.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jack sent him a curious gaze.

"You want me to pour my heart out to you in the middle of the working day, five minutes after I opened up the business, while standing outside my shop?"

"Good point. Name a time and a place."

"Why should I? You're my customer. I don't anything about you… apart from some of your body measurements. And you don't know anything about me… apart from the fact that I am awfully good at sewing suits… or mediocre, in the opinion of Dr. Harper's fiancée. Why should I pour my heart to you… and why should you listen at all?" the young man surpassed any expectation and directly attacked the main point.

"Because, despite me being horribly imperfect (and here I'm not talking about my looks, of course) and most likely not very good at this, I am interested. I am honestly, sincerely and very, very enthusiastically interested." Jack answered, eyes never leaving the tailor's.

"I don't do casual."

"I can tell. And I'm not interested in casual… not this time."

"This time?"

"Name a time and a place and I promise we'll pour our hearts out to each other." He took a final gulp and handed the mug back. "Delicious."

"Thank you. Come back for your fitting the day after tomorrow… and we'll decide on a time and a place." Ianto spoke and turned around, moving towards the shop's entrance. Right before disappearing around the corner, he called out over his shoulder. "When's the wedding exactly?"

"Next week's Saturday." He answered and watched the red and black outfit disappear. A moment later, he let out a loud whistle and started walking down the street, away from the said red brick building. For an entire quarter of hour, it seemed that nothing was capable of bringing the American down from his ninth cloud. None of Owen's sarcastic remarks, not Diane's superior tone, not even the annoying Chihuahua that almost got its small teeth embedded in his beloved RAF coat. Life, in a long time, seemed to be perfect again.

That is, until his mobile rang loudly.

"Hello? This is your hot stud speaking."

"Jack. I'm in a bit of a pinch."

* * *

Yeah, so I've decided to be nice to Gwen in this fic, but only because, when thinking about how I should depict Rhys, he came out so... funky. Also, Gwen will be having some anger issues because, upon browsing through the series again, I notice that she is pissed off a lot of times... when she's not trying (and failing) to be sympathetic anyway...

Owen and Jack sort of wrote themselves down... their dialogues weren't this big when I thought about them, at first, but they just came out like that. Hmm, that must be my subconscious trying to tell me something... don't know what though ^^

So, please scroll down further and abuse the review link... you know you want to *wiggling eyebrows*


	5. Jail cells and punches

Disclaimer: Don't own it (Torchwood, Midsomer Murders, etc)

This fic is proving itself to be quite rebellious... meaning that from nine chapters (as I originally planned it), it jumped up to eleven... and that's only so far _

May you enjoy your reading...

* * *

"This is what you call a pinch?" Jack Harkness raised both his eyebrows as he watched his boss/colleague from the cell's doorway. Gwen Cooper was standing right in the middle of the bench settled on the opposite wall, her head turned around so that she could gaze up at the small window built high above her. She didn't move, even after hearing the heavy door open or his words. Quietly, the American fumbled inside the room and settled down next to her, not minding the policeman waiting near the door. "When you first called, I imagined that you ran out of money for pizza or something. Not that you assaulted an inspector and got yourself thrown in jail… and in your own city, for God's sake."

"Sorry. I was in a bit of a mood." She apologized and turned to him, hands immediately locking onto his and holding them together over their laps.

"So I heard. But I'm not the one you should be apologizing to." He warned with a devilish smile.

"Wanker. Served him right… patronizing me and all that." She muttered.

"Of course. How dare anyone speak like that to the chief of the R&D division of Torchwood." Jack said, words dripping with sarcasm, and earned himself a laugh and a smile.

"The guys back in London are going to give me hell for this." She groaned and hid her face in her hands.

"Mmph. The woman who can sweet-talk herself out of an international war viciously attacks native inspector for inappropriate conduct and tone."

"Shut up. Leave it be… besides, we've got much bigger problems than my anger managements techniques…"

"Or lack thereof…" Jack continued with his teasing and mused over her blushing cheeks.

"What are we going to do about Owen?" Gwen demanded.

"Pray he'll come to his senses, watch him get married and hope that his work in London will keep the future Mrs. Harper as far away as possible?"

"He didn't tell you, did he?"

"Tell me what?"

"Jack, he's handed in his resignation." Gwen dropped the bomb and watched him get up from the bench and start pacing around the cell. The policeman outside the door remained unmoved.

"What?"

"That's why I'm here. To find out what the hell is going through that empty skull of his and maybe get some sense into it."

"Did you process the resignation?"

"No. I have it with me and I honestly hope I don't have to go back to London with it. Can we leave now? I think I'm getting lice."

"Not yet. We're waiting for the papers to be filled in. Great mug shot, by the way. And then I think you'll get a speech from the nice ginger-head you decided to pour your frustrations on." Jack smiled at her, but it was obvious that he was hiding his inner turmoil regarding his mate's decision, behind the usual screen of jokes, smile and laughter. Gwen patted the bench next to her and he sat down again, this time facing her entirely. "I think I met someone." He looked up and saw surprise and hurt widening her lovely doe eyes.

"You've been here what, a couple of days? A week? You sure move fast…" disappointment filled her words.

"Gwen… Owen told me about you and him… he didn't mean to… it just came up… we were fighting and… you know how these things turn up."

"Yeah…"

"If I had known you before… everything… we would have been great… but, as it is…"

"I see…"

"No, you don't. You're too young for me." He spoke quickly, not letting her interrupt him with her struggles and denials. "Not age-wise… but experience-wise. You were put in charge of the R&D division because you know people… and there, we're all just freaks, more or less. Me, Owen, Suzie… we're bordering anti-social and some of us are definitely not people-persons. But you know how to interact with all of us, because you know how to speak to pretty much anyone." He smiled, squeezed her hands and then gave her a tight hug. "Don't believe for a moment that I consider you in any way below me just because you haven't been through the same things that I have… in fact, I'm awfully glad you haven't. I'm happy that you can still see the good side of this world. That you can still trust people."

"Tell me about it." A strange voice was heard from the general direction of the doorway, making Jack and Gwen almost jumped apart at the sound. Looking away from each other, they notice the newly-arrived ginger-head standing in the doorway, a calm smile stuck on his lips, identical to the one present during his original encounter with the Welshwoman. "Allow me to present myself. DCI Rhys Williams. Of course, I already met the lovely Miss Cooper. And you are?"

"Jack Harkness. I'm here to bail out the lovely Miss Cooper. Excuse me, but aren't you a little bit young to be a DCI?"

"What did you expect? A bald head? Canes? Perhaps a hot nurse to help me move about?"

"No, although personally I wouldn't have minded the latter." Jack answered with a leer, earning himself a friendly swat from Gwen. "Maybe a Barnaby-like character. Definitely not a Troy, though."

"I don't know if I should say that you've watched "Midsomer Murders" too much or too little. I'm definitely a Jones. Smartest side-kick ever and we share the same mother-tongue."

* * *

"And here was I hoping that Jack had gone and got himself drunk into oblivion on his own, when he phoned to let me know that he got you out of jail." Owen welcomed his fellow Torchwood colleagues in his flat, the following day.

"What's this?" Gwen stomped to the middle of his living room and demanded angrily, shoving the handwritten resignation (probably the only readable document he'd ever laid on paper in his entire six years spent at Torchwood) in his face. The medic merely shrugged away and calmly sat on his sofa, making a show of picking up a newspaper and shuffling through it.

"Jeez, could you be less subtle?" Jack spoke from somewhere behind her.

"Subtlety got us here, so excuse me if I refuse to make use of it right now." Gwen bit back. "Explain this!" she demanded again.

"Can't you read, boss?" It's exactly what it says."

"And why is that?"

"Because I plan to retire from Torchwood and leave London entirely. Diane's got a good job here… the city is nice, peaceful for a change… and that's exactly why I bought a practice with the intention of starting it after the wedding." The medic spoke calmly, as if they were discussing the weather, not even bothering to look up from the paper… that is, until it was ripped from his hands.

"You what?" this time Jack exploded.

"Has everyone gone daft today? Or just deaf?"

"Oh, I heard you fine! I just can't believe my ears. You're turning your back to your life's work, to your friends? And for what? For a witch and a practice?"

"Don't call her that!" Owen stood up.

"I understand your need to go domestic, but now you're just getting ridiculous! How long do you think you'll be able to live this lie, Owen?" Jack thundered and Gwen took a few steps away, suddenly wary of the men's reactions.

"This is my life! Excuse me if I'll do whatever the hell I want with it!" he snarled. The air tensed as Jack took a deep breath.

"Owen, you're my best mate and I both understand and forgive you." At this, he was answered with a disbelieving snort. "Every time I screwed up, you were there to give me a strong enough kick and wake me up. So, in order to prove to you exactly what kind of a good friend I can be, allow me to return the favour." He declared…

And all hell broke loose.

The medic noticed the punch heading his way too late. His did not, however, miss his queue or Gwen's shouts, ordering them to break it up. Still, he gave absolutely no sign of obeying her and put all his efforts into either missing Jack's punches or returning them heartily.

"Come on, Harkness! Fight like the man you claim to be."

"Bring it on, scarecrow!"

"Fucking wanker! You think you can take me down?"

"Just you watch me!"

Unfortunately for the Torchwood trio, the whole ruckus soon became noticed, especially after the two best friends burst into the storey's hallway, nearly ripping Owen's front door off its hinges, accompanied by Gwen's angry shouts and occasional attempts of separating them.

Approximately ten minutes after the private affair became public (for all of the medic's new neighbours to watch), their small stampede was interrupted by two police teams that barely managed to draw the two men away from each other's throats, as well as their equally angry female companion. Needless to say, the ride to the station was an eventful one.

"Second time in two days. I must say I'm impressed." The strong Welsh accent that welcomed her the moment she crossed the station's entrance, made her roll her eyes and let out a mighty swear. "Tsk, what a dirty mouth you have, young lady?" the detective admonished her, once again acting as if she were a five year old. "So what brings you here again? More car accidents or have we evolved to scaring pedestrians off the crossing?"

"You know, the last things I need on my mind now is yet another idiot trying to be smart with me. So, if you'll excuse me, I'm more than ready to be taken to my cell." She smiled mockingly at the sincerely amused ginger-head.

"I see. And, pray tell, who exactly are the idiots that dare occupy your royal mind?" he stepped forward, but careful, obviously still keeping in mind her vicious kick from the previous day. Before she could answer, however, the door behind her burst open, as the rest of the police squad that had descended upon them at Owen's block of flats, struggled to keep their hold on the two still-no-yet-tired men. The DCI merely raised and amused eyebrow. "Nevermind then."

Seven hours later, the police station became quiet… really quiet, as the evening set it.

The three employees of Torchwood sat, this time, is a typical cell, featuring the typical wooden bench, the typical steel bars and the typical leering policemen passing by every now and then. Jack and Owen each sat down on the floor, on opposite corners, refusing to acknowledge each other, but still drawing fits every once in a while. The rest of the small prison seemed empty, bar themselves, so Gwen decided to take a short nap, which only resulted in a higher degree of crankiness and a sore neck. Groaning, she stood up, her hair sticking out in what seemed to be every possible direction, and checked her watch. 19:45. And they were still in that blasted cell. Damn. Double damn.

"I'm gonna kill Suzie when we get out of here." She grumbled.

"Please tell me you didn't call her." Jack whined from his corner, formed by two walls of steel bars.

"Hers is the only phone number I know by heart. It's not like I could call from my mobile or as if I have the a Phone Book memorised."

"No, but also learning Hartman's number by heart wouldn't be a wrong move." Owen argued quietly from the other side of the enclosed space.

"Fine, next time you can call whomever the hell you want."

"No. That's why you're our boss." Jack grinned tiredly.

"Bloody idiots. They're probably in some pub right now, downing pints and making fun, while we're stuck here for the night." Owen swore and rubbed his hands over his face, as if to keep himself awake.

"It's time to be grateful, you lot. Wakey wakey." A cheerful voice filled the air, as DCI Williams appeared from around the corner, wearing an evil wide smile. "It's time to get out of here!"

"Don't you have any murders cases to solve?"

"Is your hair colour natural?"

"Is the jail always so empty?"

"I'm afraid the only answer I can give you is "YES", so get your bums off my floor and come meet your rescuer." He produced a set of keys, unlocked the door and waited patiently for his "tenants" to start feeling their legs again and crawl out of their "temporary accommodation". "Nice look. Suits you." He commented the moment Gwen walked out, but she lacked the energy to scream something rude back at him or to even give him the finger.

"Can't believe Suzie drove all the way down here." Owen muttered.

"Shower, food, sleep." The Welshwoman recited.

"Ianto?" Jack walked into the station's waiting hall and stopped dead the moment he saw the young tailor quietly sitting on a faded blue plastic chair, a dark grey suit splendidly covering his body and a black long jacket clutched in his hidden hands.

"Sorry I didn't come earlier. I though Rhys was in one of his moods." He looked apologetically at the dishevelled group and waited for the DCI to come up next to him. "I believe all introductions have been made. Jack Harkness, Owen Harper and…"

"Gwen Cooper." The Welshwoman quickly answered and stepped forward to shake one of the tailor's now free hands, mustering the brightest smile she could, given the circumstances. "Thank you for getting us out of here. But, if I may ask, how do you know each other."

"Mr. Jones is making my wedding suit… well, he finished mine. He's making Jack's now." The medic answered quietly, cheeks reddening with embarrassment. "Thanks mate." He directed the line at Ianto and, for the first time since meeting the stoic Welshman, felt horrible for having drawn conclusions regarding him so quickly and without any real reasons whatsoever.

"No problem. I've got my car waiting outside, so let me know where I have to drop you off."

"Thank you for you kindness, but we wouldn't want to impose that much on you, Mr. Jones."

"Don't worry about it! Ianto here is a model citizen and a very good driver… unlike some other people I came across." The ginger-head smirked again, eyes definitely set on Gwen, who was ready to let out a fierce reply, having found an untouched energy bubble inside her.

"Leave them alone, Rhys. Come on." The young man herded the three out of the police station and into his car, as if he was the oldest of the bunch and not the youngest.

"But I was having so much fun." The inspector pouted and followed them shortly.

"Leave off or I'm telling Rhia. Let's see then who'll fix you your morning coffee, because I sure as hell am not going to."

"Alright, alright. Just as long as you're sure they'll behave…" he pointed at the three figures huddled in their respective seats.

"Good night, Rhys."

"Bye Ianto."

"Would you like me to stop by the A&E?" the young man asked five minutes later, glancing at the unusually quiet man sitting next to him.

"That's not really necessary. Owen's got a medical kit back home." Jack explained and supplied the medic's address, glancing warily from side to side. Behind them, there was only silence. Ianto couldn't help but smile and at the very unusual, and horribly embarrassing situation, for the three colleagues. He felt like a father, driving his naughty teenage children home, after having been called down to the principal's office to be announced that they had been caught smoking weed behind the gym.

"So what was this all about then?" he couldn't help but ask after yet another long moment of tomb-like silence. "It's not everyday that a groom-to-be gets in such a nasty fight with his best man. You didn't sleep with the bride-to-be did you?" he spoke on a casual tone, but his eyes betrayed him. He was already scared of what Jack's answer could be and what it would signify.

"God no!" said man burst aloud. "It's not that…"

"Then what?" Ianto threaded carefully.

"It's a long story. I'm sorry we can't give you more details… and that we can't be better company." Finally Gwen spoke from the back seat. The driver just nodded, his relief barely obvious. Needless to say, for the rest of the short drive, no more words were exchanged.

"Don't forget to come by tomorrow for your final fitting."

"What time?"

"Will ten in the morning do?"

"Sure. See you then… and Ianto, thank you." For the first time that day, Jack dared look up into the Welshman's eyes and, surprisingly, blushed madly. A second later he was out the door and towards the block of flats, walking next to his colleagues. He had turned around and left quickly, missing Ianto's very similar reaction to his words and gestures. It took almost an entire minute for the tailor to recompose himself and be able to drive away.

* * *

"Aargh!" a mighty scream woke both Owen, from his bedroom, and Gwen, from the couch, on a typical Welsh Friday morning (somewhere between cloudy and rainy). They both jumped up from their beds and ran towards the bathroom, from where the noise had originated, bumping into each other painfully.

"Ow!" they groaned in unison and turned into the bathroom's doorway, only to see Jack Harkness standing in front of the mirror with a towel wrapped around his waist and a look of disbelief-bordering-insanity imprinted on his face. Slowly, he turned his head towards them, blue eyes the size of saucers.

"He saw me looking like this." He whispered and desperately pointed at the bruise formed around his left eyes, the bloody scratch marks on his left cheek and his split lower lip.

"It's not like you were looking better than Owen…" Gwen sighed and pointed at the medic's face, which held more bruises than the pilot's. "Or me…" she muttered and passed a hand through her now, thankfully, washed and dried hair.

"It's not that… Jack fancies young Mr. Jones." Owen explained with a teasing smile spread over his thin lips. "And apparently he was quite on the right track… of course, that is, until the poor man had to bail us out of jail. So, don't worry, Jack, I'm sure you looking like a sight last night will probably have nothing to do with him cutting you off the list." He winked at Gwen and laughed the moment his friend turned even paler.

"Well, your face might look like something, but at least let's make sure the rest of you is presentable." The Welshwoman spoke with a kind smile, and returned the medic's gesture, leaving both of her subordinates speechless. "I know what you're both thinking… but I've put some thought into this whole thing after I arrived here… trust me, I had plenty of time to do that, having been locked in a cell twice in two days and all… and, well… I like Mr. Jones. He seems a nice young man… and you must all agree that the services he provides are beyond meagre words of praise."

* * *

No Tosh in this chapter, but plenty of Tosh in the following ones. Promise!

As usual, feel free to make use of the review link below for any suggestions, complaints, thoughts and brownies XD


	6. Matchmakers and armchairs

Disclaimer: Don't own it, whatever it is (Torchwood, etc.)

Wow, this fic almost started writing itself down. The problem was up until the wedding... which is two chapters away... Also, this chapter and the next one were written, by yours truly, as a whole, but for to consistency's sake, I split them... hopefully, I did so correctly. Let me know, alright? Second part could be posted on Sunday, it the planets align correctly ^^

May you enjoy your reading...

* * *

Although he had been called out at ten o'clock, Jack found himself anxious by eight-thirty, when Gwen had finished picking an outfit for him, and downright restless at nine, when Owen had almost thrown him out the door (or what had remained of it), claiming that the team of repairmen bound to arrive and Gwen's shouts into her mobile were already too much for him to bear.

So Jack found himself unconsciously strolling towards Roald Dahl Plass and soon made his way through the cobweb of narrow streets behind it, arriving at the charming building made of red brick with half an hour to spare. With a sigh, he turned around on his heels, ready to try and keep himself away for thirty more minutes, when a yell stopped him from advancing further down the street. Glancing back, he saw a familiar dark-haired woman waving at him from around the corner. Smiling, he walked up to her, aware that in order to reach her he had to pass the front of the tailor shop. His heartbeat rate suddenly jumped of the chart.

"Good morning, Miss Jones."

"Actually, it's Mrs. Davies, but since everyone calls me Rhiannon, I can't help but be puzzled by you not complying with this local habit." She smirked, actually smirked and Jack silently admonished himself for not having noticed since the beginning that she was indeed Ianto's sister. They might not resemble each other physically, but that wit was definitely a Jones dominant gene.

"Alright, Rhiannon. But only if you call me Jack." He answered dutifully and promptly found himself dragged to her small café and pushed into a chair. As usual, it was an almost full house and the nice blonde-haired man was bustling about with trays and coffee cups.

"So, I heard my brother got you out of jail yesterday. That was definitely a first." She mused aloud after placing a glass of orange juice in front of him and sitting down. Jack glanced at the drink with a puzzled look but complied with her choice.

"Yeah, I had a fight with my best friend yesterday." He lowered his shoulders, the blue coat suddenly appearing too large for him.

"Oh, you don't need to explain anything. I heard all the juicy details from Rhys." She spoke excitedly.

"The DCI?"

"Yep. Went to school and high school with him. We've been best mates since I can remember."

"Really?" Jack couldn't help but smile, as he found himself completely not surprised by this new bit of information. It just made sense that these lovely, high-spirited people full of energy would get together. You could tell that they were one big family, with their problems and disasters and victories. He hadn't seen a family in such a long time, and yet, he knew he was falling in love with this one.

"Yeah… and after what I heard last night, there are some things I need to clear out with you. First of all, I need to fulfil my sisterly duties and warn you that if you hurt my baby brother, I'll neuter you… most painfully." Jack gulped audibly and he watched Rhiannon's eyes turn evil and then clear again, in a matter of seconds. "He's been through too much for his age and I really don't want to see him turn again into the wreck he was when he came back from London. I tell you, if it hadn't been for the children and Tosh, I think he would have done something irreversible. But, for the past year, he's been doing fine, going out in the world again… so I think you can understand that if I see a downturn and I find out you had something to do with it, I will subject you to something irreversible."

"Noted." Jack managed to croak.

"Good!" she exclaimed and smiled brightly. "Now to the second bit. Who is the young woman who accompanied you and your mate yesterday? Rhys only told me that she was Welsh, had just arrived in town and it was already her second time in jail, in two days."

"Oh, umm, that's my sort of boss, Gwen Cooper. Yes, she is Welsh, surprisingly violent as of late and yes, yesterday was her second time in prison ever since setting foot in Wales, on Wednesday." Jack answered with a perplexed smile.

"Is she a nice person?"

"Huh?"

"Because, I was thinking... Rhys is single… has been so for too many years now and I know that he fancies her, no matter how much he tries to deny it. I knew he fancied Clarissa James in the fifth grade and I know he fancies your Miss Cooper. So, is she dating anyone?"

"Rhia." A third presence suddenly materialised next to their table and both of them looked up. Ianto Jones stood tall, dressed as tastefully as always, a strange gleam in his lovely blue eyes.

"Ianto." Jack smiled like an idiot and sat up, as well. His first impulse had been to wrap himself around the Welshman with a viselike grip, but he knew that his attentions might not be welcomed, so he held himself away from the suit-clad body.

"Jack." He turned sideways and gazed into his eyes.

"Alright already. I can tell I'm not wanted. But Jack, remember that you still owe information." She declared and disappeared in the café's hidden kitchen.

"Your suit's out and Tosh is waiting upstairs with her coffee selections. This way if you please." Ianto guided him out of the coffee shop and through the connecting hallways and curtains, until they reached familiar territory. "I must admit I was a little concerned when you failed to show up." He pointed at a grandfather clock reading ten past ten. "I'm sorry I couldn't come save you from my sister's clutches sooner, but I was busy with a fussy customer. Hope she didn't torture you too much."

"Nothing I'm not used to, don't worry. I was sort of expecting it anyway… Hm, but what I wasn't expecting was her asking me about Gwen. Apparently DCI Williams is interested." He wiggled his eyebrows. Ianto just snorted and nudged him into the dressing room.

"Don't mind her. Ever since settling down and having kids she's been trying to set everyone up. She even tried to get me and Tosh together when we first arrived from London. Don't get me wrong, I love Tosh, but I don't think I'd manage or enjoy a proper relationship with her. Besides, she's my best friend… I just can't look at her that way." He explained and repressed a shrug.

"I know what you mean. So, the cabin, as usual?" Ianto just nodded and Jack made himself scarce, disappearing behind one of the heavy curtains. When he returned, dressed in the immaculate best man suit, he found himself alone. Quietly, he walked around the room and stepped up on the stool, admiring his image in the numerous mirrors and what Ianto's exquisite stitches did for his figure. A sudden whistle brought him out of his thoughts with a start. Turning around, he met the sight of a casually dressed Toshiko. "I'll take that as a compliment." He bestowed upon her a wink and a smile.

"You look amazing, even with the blackened eyes and the split lip. But could that be thanks to you or Ianto's sewing?" she teased him and laughed at his pout. "Alright, alright! Don't get all upset now. It's not my fault you almost look like a model, whenever you don't look like you've just escaped from a pub brawl, that is. Not to mention that Ianto is too bloody good at his job." She pouted right back at him.

"Toshiko Sato! Always a pleasure to see you." He got down and gave her a hug.

"This is the second time you've seen me in your entire life."

"Yeah, but I'm foreseeing a lot of such meetings in the future, so I'm getting practice."

"You really like him, don't you?" she asked after a long moment of silence. "That's good."

"You're not already planning to neuter me too, are you?" Jack let out a whine, making her burst out in loud laughter.

"Let me guess, Rhia?"

"Who else?"

"You should be honoured. I think you're the first person to ever be thusly threatened. But don't worry, if she's gone so far, it means that she has a good feeling about you two." She explained once she managed to master her giggles.

"Can I tell you something?" he leaned towards her and spoke in a low voice.

"What?" she whispered back.

"So do I." he solemnly nodded and squeezed her hands.

"What are you two conspiring about?" Ianto's entrance was only betrayed by a faint rustle.

"Actually we were wondering when we could adjourn upstairs for the coffee tasting you promised us." Tosh almost hopped her way to the young tailor and it was barely then that Jack noticed her fluffy bunny slippers. He made a mental note to ask about them later on, but did not comment on the matter.

"Let me check the suit and make sure it's finished first."

"Oh, it's finished alright." Jack took his queue and jumped right back on the stool, taking different poses, as if he was a model during a photo shoot. "I can't remember the last time I wore clothes that made me look this good."

"You always look good." Ianto unconsciously replied while checking every centimetre of thread. Near the entrance, Tosh fell right back into her fit of giggles, while the American froze and mechanically turned towards the tailor, blue eyes widened in shock. Ianto suddenly stopped too, sighed and shut his eyes tightly. "I said that out loud, didn't I?"

"Mr. Jones, I do believe that was flirting." Jack's face broke into a huge Cheshire cat-like grin, while Tosh was on the brink of a heart-attack.

"Well, don't look so surprised! You could probably make a dead man flirt." He grumbled.

"Probably… never tried though. Even I have my limits."

"Right. Moving on, this looks done." The young man spoke and stepped away from the stool, once more giving his customer enough space to check himself in the mirrors. "Are you alright with it?"

"Beyond that! You do lovely work, Mr. Jones."

"Thank you; now, if you change out of the suit, I'll have Annie iron and pack it for you, while we adjourn upstairs."

"Are you sure you have time? It is the middle of the day, after all…"

"Don't worry, I cleared my schedule until two o'clock."

Jack nodded and disappeared, only to return one minute later, hand in the suit and eagerly follow the two friends through a separate corridor, which led to a stairway placed somewhere at the back of the two shops. They climbed the perfectly rebuilt wooden stairs that didn't even let out a single creak, up to the first floor.

"Where do you think you're going, Mister?" The moment Ianto unlocked his door, a furry black silhouette attempted to escape along the hallway wall before being intercepted by Tosh's hands. "Bluff, I do think you're getting fatter by the minute." She grunted under the devil's weight. "Ianto, what are you feeding him?" she entered the flat and walked around the open space that combined a living room, a dining room and a part of the kitchen. She plopped herself on a large, very comfortable-looking reddish-brown sofa. Taking this as an invitation, Jack sat in one of the three matching armchairs, placed in various positions around the coffee table in the middle of the room, and watched the woman play with the black devil.

"Nuclear bombs." Ianto deadpanned and stepped into the kitchen. Immediately, familiar sounds followed suit.

"Shouldn't we help him?" Jack raised his head and peered towards the origin of the noise.

"While he's making coffee? Never. Trespass his territory and he might kill you. Especially if you misplace something, which always happens. Even Rhia doesn't dare step further than the fridge." She joked, while tickling Bluff, who apparently adored this type of "abuse". "Still, he accepts help while cooking… he's even quite grateful for it. But never while making coffee."

"Thanks for the tip."

"Good morning and welcome to Ianto's humble abode." The young tailor swiftly moved about the room, neatly placing a plateau of biscuits, cookies and every other sugary treats known to man, on the coffee table between the armchairs and sofa. "Today's choices will be hazelnut, pistachio, cashew, cream and cinnamon, chocolate and liquor, for those of you who aren't driving. The drinks will be served in a moment." He spoke calmly and turned around, heading for the kitchen again.

"Wow, I could have mistaken him for a professional." Jack kept his eyes glued to the young man as he walked away.

"He was, for a while, during University. When Ianto and I met, we were already in our last year of college, but he did tell me that when he first came to London he had to get a job in order to survive, during the summer before his classes. He used to work in a café somewhere near the London Eye and practically invented a special sort of uniform for himself, although the baristas there weren't required to wear one. His boss liked the uniform so much, that he asked Ianto to make a special one for each of his employees. The whole thing was a huge success, especially with all the tourists, as they thought this was a cosplay café, and the owner even recommended Ianto to one of his friends, some well-known designer… who turned out to be one of his professors, later on."

"Couldn't his parents help him with money?" Jack inquired quietly.

"Yes and no. His mum died when he and Rhia were kids and his tad held the tailor shop his entire life. He also wanted his children to have more chances than he had, so, when Rhia announced him that she needed little more than a husband and kids, their old man turned to Ianto and pushed him to do more and more, discover his talents and preferences, go to Uni… even if it meant leaving Wales… He wanted only the best for him. And that's why he didn't let him take over the shop and sent him to London. The problem was that he had already grown old and couldn't work as much as before… so the customers became fewer and fewer… so Ianto, already feeling bad enough for leaving his tad alone, made sure he would never have to ask for anything. He died shortly after he and I met and Rhia sealed this building off. By the time we finished Uni, she was thinking of selling the property… but then some bad stuff happened and Ianto decided to come back… and he brought me with him. He renovated the whole thing, gave me the second floor and started the flourishing business you see today." She said, all the while not meeting Jack's eyes and petting the dozing feline in her lap.

"What a special man our dear Mr. Jones is…"

"You're just saying that because you want to taste my new coffee blends." Said man mocked him while carefully carrying a heavy large tray, filled with 6 small kettles and various containers, among which a large cup of cream, different powders and an unusual flask filled with a liquid that definitely contained alcohol.

"You sure you don't need any help?" Jack jumped to his feet, trying to assist him in some way.

"Alright, see to the tray I left on the kitchen counter." The American quickly moved towards the designated place and returned with small cups (all eighteen of them, each bearing different colours and tiny markings), a matching amount of teaspoons and some larger, normal ones.

"This is the first time I've seen anyone this serious and prepared for a coffee tasting." He settled the tray next to its companions on the short table and was surprised to see both Tosh and Ianto sitting on the carpet, not even minding the furniture. "Umm…"

"Oh, sorry, Tosh and I have been doing this for so long that I forget what it's like to have new company at these events. Don't worry, have a seat." The young tailor patted the floor next to him. "My carpet won't kill you, as it is unnaturally clean."

"It's easier to reach the table from down here. And besides, if I were to stain his beloved sofa, he'd have my head." Tosh spoke before wolfing down a chocolate chip cookie. Behind her, Bluff sprawled himself over the warm spot she had left behind, only to indulge in feline dreams, not minding the silly humans settled around the coffee table.

* * *

As promised, Tosh! Sadly, she won't be joining us for the next two chapters... but there will be some other stuff going on in the next installment and some familiar people at Owen's wedding, so, hopefully, that'll keep you guys occupied.

As always, remember that every author's favourite spiritual food is the review! As many and as often as possible XD


	7. Kisses and confessions

Disclaimer: Don't own it, whatever it is (Torchwood, Merlin, etc.)

Ok, this chapter features something I've almost never or rarely encountered in fanfiction: monologues. I realise that flashbacks might have been a much cooler way to present the boys' confessions regarding their lives so far, but this is how they came out in the end. I'm a little concerned about whether I got them right or not, so I'd really appreciate some feedback on this one (reviews, buzzez, smoke signals... really, anything will do XD).

May you enjoy your reading...

* * *

Approximately two hours later, Jack decreed that the coffee Ianto Jones made was the best one in the whole wide world.

"And trust me, I've seen most of it and I've tasted coffee in most place I've seen." He also added with a wink, before hugging Tosh goodbye. Apparently a tremendous amount of work was waiting for her upstairs and there was also some international call she did not dare miss. "So, it's just you and me." He turned towards Ianto the moment they remained alone.

"Actually it's you, me, Bluff and a whole pile of dishes just waiting to be washed. Not to mention that I've got an appointment in fifteen minutes." He added after checking his watch.

"Let's get on with it then." Jack grabbed hold of one of the trays and took it back to the kitchen counter. When he rolled up his first sleeve, however, a firm hand stopped him.

"Don't do that. I invited you here today."

"And you also bailed me and my two moronic friends out of jail yesterday."

"You're my guest. Besides, I already received the money back and you wouldn't know how to arrange the clean dishes anyway."

"Ah, so this is part of the "no touching" policy then."

"I see you and Tosh haven't wasted any time in gossiping about me." The two men had walked out of the flat by now, Jack wearing his coat and Ianto locking the door, after making sure that Bluffy hadn't manage to escape.

"Oh, it wasn't gossip. It was research." The American wiggled his eyebrows, a naughty smile spread on his lips. "But, besides that… I believe there was something we needed to talk about you and me… confession time and all." He suddenly became quiet and watched the younger man intently, as they reached the stairs.

"You're lucky… I'm quite free these days, given how there aren't any festivities or celebrations coming up. Only the occasional baptism… or wedding… so you pick a day and we'll go from there." Ianto shrugged.

"I'm more or less free until Owen's wedding as well, but I must admit that I would very much like to find out more about you… and quite soon."

"Am I that much of challenge?" he smirked.

"More like a Christmas present. Especially when you're wearing red." Jack winked and laughed at Ianto's elaborate eye-roll. "What are you doing tomorrow? It being Saturday and all…"

"Nothing in the morning, but I've got some house calls in the evening." He made a quick mental check.

"House calls? Don't tell me you're also a paramedic in your spare time."

"No… They're some of my tad's older customers and they can't all come down here anymore. So, as a thank you for their loyalty to my business, I go to them. Many are old and stubborn as mules, but I like them and I like mending their suits while listening to crazy tales about their youth. You might think me insane, but in those moments I don't regret at all leaving London and moving back here." He stopped at the head of the staircase, while Jack had already climbed down the first stair and stood right in front of him.

"Oh, I don't think you're crazy. There are a lot of things we can learn only from our elders and I respect that… besides, had you not moved from London and opened this shop, we would have never met… and I'm incredibly grateful for that particular event." Jack finished his words in a whisper, eyes gazing into Ianto's, as the tailor slowly moved closer and closer… until only their clothes separated them.

There was no rush, no madness and it felt so easy, so natural. Sparks filled the air with electricity and butterflies flew inside warm bodies as their arms automatically reached up and wrapped themselves around the other man's body. Hearts drummed dangerously inside swollen chests and, as ridiculous and cheesy as it may sound, even time seemed to stop for a while, as two pairs of lips descended one upon the other…

It was calm, almost chaste at first… then became bold… then hungry…

Jack didn't know for how long he had been kissing (or was it ravaging? smooching?) Ianto, but when the contact broke, he did feel as if he had run to Glasgow and back. So he settled to breathlessly stare at the younger man and listen to him, while skilled hands gently caressed his cheeks.

"Tomorrow morning, eight o'clock. Use the back door, since I won't be opening the shop." He sounded just as distressed and surprised as Jack felt. "I'll show you out." He added, but made no move whatsoever to disentangle himself from Jack's arms. Instead, he kept touching and staring at the American, tracing his face features with careful, steady fingers. Then, suddenly, he took a deep breath and dropped his head again, this time taking control of the kiss. A minute later, it was Jack that broke away.

"Do that again and you will miss your appointments for the whole upcoming week." He warned and smiled widely. "Eight o'clock it is."

* * *

"Come in." The door promptly opened the moment Jack reached the building made of red brick, having followed Ianto's instructions and, thus, discovering the back door, which didn't resemble a back door at all… just a normal house entrance, missing all the trash cans and general clutter you could usually find behind a café. Still, this was no ordinary café, so Jack failed to understand his own surprise. On the other side of the doorway, stood a rather dishevelled tailor, who looked like he had just rolled out of bed after a not quite restful night's sleep. Still, he looked as delectable as when wearing what Jack now liked to call "the fetish gear".

"I come bearing gifts." He raised the bag he was holding with a grin and entered the house, taking in both his surroundings and the young man. He wore a simple pair of blue trousers and what seemed to be a very old black t-shirt that had once carried the picture of some rock band. His hair was spiky and his eyes red, movements betraying his still sleepy consciousness. However, it wasn't until Jack dropped his gaze to his feet that he let out a chuckle, disturbing the silence around them. Ianto was wearing, consciously or not, a pair of mouse slippers, featuring sharp noses, beady eyes, ears, whiskers and everything else.

"Hmm?" Ianto turned to him and then followed his gaze down. "Oh, yeah. Tosh has a bit of problem with slippers. Everywhere she goes, she looks for funny or funky slippers. If you think this is amusing, you should see what she brought Rhia and the kids last time she went to London." He explained and proceeded with climbing the stair connecting the house storeys.

"Remind me to ask her for a tour, sometimes." Jack smiled and followed him, eyes glued to his backside, rather than the ground below his feet, which led to him tripping over the last stair.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just day-dreaming... and seriously considering this talk..." his words trailed off as he looked up and stared into the young man's eyes.

"You can still turn around and run away."

"Not this time... So, where does Tosh live?"

"Up there." Ianto answered and pointed a finger at the next staircase, leading up to the second floor. "As you know, I'm this way."

Five minutes later, Jack was settled at Ianto's kitchen table, a plate full of pastries in front of him. A few feet away, the tailor was bustling about the cooker, filling kettles, checking temperatures and pouring all sorts of things from numerous containers into the boiling water. The American kept quiet, enjoying the show.

"I think it's like watching Merlin perform his magic during Arthurian times." He finally spoke the moment a very familiar blue-stripped mug found its way in front of him. Ianto blushed.

"With a little common sense anyone could make coffee like mine."

"Oh, I'm not so sure about that. As a matter of fact, the only sensible people I know also make the worst coffee possible. You're special." The American went on as he watched the Welshman sit down on the opposite side of the small round table, his own coffee mug next to him. The pastries remained between them long forgotten, as the two men gazed at each other, both thinking the same thing: "this is it!"

"So... confession time, is it?" Ianto dropped is gaze to the wooden surface below their elbows and swallowed almost audibly. Soft pads were heard from the other side of the kitchen and Jack almost jumped up at the feeling of a furry tail against his trouser-clad leg. Glancing below the table, he saw the magnificent black cat roam around for a bit, until he managed to somehow nestle himself between Ianto's slippers and promptly settled down, dozing off. "Earlier this week... when you came with Dr. Harper and his fiancée... I have a feeling my reaction must have brought about some questions to your mind..."

"Just one or two..." Jack answered innocently and took a sip of his coffee.

"Yeah... it's a long story... so get ready to listen for a while..." Ianto took a deep breath and started speaking, at first in low, almost hushed tones, then, as memories came rushing back to him, his voice turned mocking, bitter and even angry. "I loved her, you see. It was going to be perfect. I was going to become a designer and she was going to be a researcher. Our future plans were laid out for the next twenty years. I was two days away from singing a contract with an Italian fashion house and several British ones were about to counter-offer them, just so they could keep me in the country. No matter what, we were going to stick together. Either traveling the world or staying back here... we were going to be together. I even had our dream house planned: a small cottage covered in ivy... roses in the front yard for the pictures and guests... thyme and basil in the back for the pasta sauce... everything was going to be perfect."

Ianto looked away from Jack's eyes, hands trembling just a bit. "We were supposed to get married the day before our graduation. It was going to be just us and some friends. No family, no outsiders, no strangers. But she never came. Apparently, instead of buying a wedding dress, she had acquired some travel bags... and a one-way ticket to France. She got a very well-paid job there, for some multinational company. But she never told me... she never even hinted that she wanted something else. Instead, she just waited for our wedding day and ran away. She left without looking back, without telling me anything...

I think you can imagine what a wreck I turned into. My whole, carefully planned life had become a ruin before even starting. For two weeks I didn't hear anything... I didn't see or smell... I didn't even breathe... And then, good old Tosh broke into my small student flat, through the window, no less... and told me to get a grip. So, I refused the Italian contract and any other job offers and I came back home. I knew that design was going to be something out of the question if I was to return to Cardiff... but I did it anyway. In London there was nothing left for me... here, at least I had my sister and her kids. I had no idea that family could mean so much. I'd always been a pretty cold child... no really minding mum or tad... but what I discovered when I returned surprised me... and made me a better person, I'm sure of that now.

So, instead of paying my airplane ticket and Lisa's to Italy, I came here and completely restored my tad's old tailor shop and the entire house. Rhia was unemployed, since Mica was barely one year old, so I also added the small coffee shop for her to manage. Something small and cute to keep her busy enough to stay out of my private matters, but free enough to have time for the children. Tosh was a bonus. Ever since I met her, she's become my steering wheel. She lives in a world of her own with all those computers and gadgets, but she's managed to keep a healthy conscience... so whenever I hit the bottom, she kicks in, points out the right way and gives me the strong nudge I need.

The only matter in which she hasn't been able to help is my love life... which doesn't exist because most people, male or female (although, I have to admit that you are my first serious attempt at the male gender), seem to think that being a tailor is equal to being a servant. They don't perceive my job as worthy or respectable. Therefore, people tend to try and push me around a lot... and if they flirt with me, I soon discover that they're actually patronising me, expecting special attention in all matters just because they pay me for their clothes. It's why I've become so wary of inappropriate conduct in my shop... of grinning people that settle their gazes on me... of shameless flirting... because I end up the same. Alone and torn to shreds." Ianto finished his monologue and finally raised his eyes to Jack again, half expecting to find him asleep or, worse, gone. Instead, the American was staring at him with wide blue orbs, filled with understanding and something more... something that not even Lisa's eyes had held when looking at him. A hand crossed over the table and caught onto his right one.

"I'm sorry. I am a firm believer that any honest job in the world deserves respect and I would never dare patronise you because of a bloody suit. As for the other thing... I've sort of been in your shoes, so I understand completely. And I can finally apologize for my words that day... especially now that I know what I have to apologize for..."

"It wasn't your fault... you couldn't have known. I'm sorry for the way I reacted."

"Well it wasn't your fault either, dammit!" Jack spoke a bit harsher than intended, but smiled as he heard Ianto's chuckle. Yeah, his gut instinct had been right. This one was a keeper... and the possibility of him being the one to keep was getting stronger by the minute. "Guess it's my turn, isn't it? Can we go sit on the couch? My part will take a little bit longer and I think we should get comfortable." he suggested while standing and picking up the mugs in order to leave them in the sink.

"Just leave them there." Ianto said as he bent down to retrieve the black devil from his legs and moved towards his living room. "I'll take care of them later." He supplied and led them around the flat. "So, what do you do for a living?"

"Mr. Jones, I love your frankness." Jack smiled as he sat down next to the Welshman and stole the tomcat from his arms. For once, Bluffy didn't seem to mind the attention and settled next to him comfortably, starting a mad purr the moment Jack's hands made their way into his fur. "I'm a test pilot for the Torchwood Institute. I believe you've heard of it, if you've been to London."

"Yes... something about innovations in flying machines and whatnot." Ianto supplied.

"That's us. I was in RAF for a while, until about five years ago... but then... I should probably start at the beginning. No one likes to hear a story from the middle. The ending wouldn't make much sense that way." He took a deep breath and, stealing one last glance at the patient man sitting down next to him, began the story of his life. "I was an army brat. I can't remember a time when we didn't change homes for longer than two years. My grandfather was in the army, my father... and I always knew that I'd end up in the army too. Believe it or not, I'm actually Scottish." He smiled at Ianto, who laughed out loud.

"No way."

"Yes way!"

"You don't sound Scottish!"

"Rrreally?" he inquired, bringing out the unmistakable burr in his voice and winning a bewildered stare. "We moved to America before my tenth birthday, before my brother was born. I never told you that I have a brother, did I? His name is Gray... and we sort of don't get along, but that's a different story. Anyway, back in high school, upon discovering my varied sexual preferences, I met two guys... one became my best friend whom you nowadays call Dr. Harper, while the other one was... well, my first guy. His name was John Hart and he was this lovely blond-haired boy who could charm the needle off a bee. I was instantly attracted to him and, being the newbie in town, I ended up sticking with him 24/7. Needless to say, he charmed a lot of things off me." Although his face was wearing the usual lecherous leer, his eyes were sad, turning his features into a bizarre mask. "It turned out that he was a drug addict... and a convicted felon. No one in town knew though... and, by the time I found out, it was too late. During my teenage years and up until my mid-twenties, I went and visited him in rehab and prison more times than I can count. I think I was feeling guilty for not having noticed that something was wrong, for not having helped him in time. If there's something I hate in this world, it's feeling useless.

Anyway, after high school, I went into the Academy and began training to be a pilot. From this point of view, I was going to be unique: the first airman in the family. My folks couldn't be prouder and for a while, everything went on great. Then, before my final year, I met Rose Tyler. I was at a party and, while trying to ditch a girl, of all things, I went out on the balcony and found her suspended by a rope made of sheets from the upper floor, wearing a white t-shirt with the British flag on it and jeans. Turned up she was on some kind of special mission and, next thing I knew, I was staring at this tall man with funny ears. His name was Smith, but everyone called him the "Doctor". I ended up flying around the world with them, as I already had my license by that time, for about half a year. For some reason they always seemed to be drawn to danger, so I found myself in a lot of inadvisable places... one of which almost killed me. We were caught in crossfire. One moment I saw death in front of my eyes, the other Owen screaming his brains out at me. I don't think he ever forgave me for that stunt, especially for having almost destroyed my left leg." He cast a side glance towards the said member. "There are still some chunks of flesh missing from it, but it's otherwise fine.

After that little adventure, I took advantage of Owen studying at the Medical School in London and transferred back to Britain, as far away from my meddling family as possible. Here I was in RAF for several long years, flying as high as I could. Needless to say, trouble followed me everywhere, since I always had a kink for extreme conditions. My superiors hated me for my madness. So five years ago, when I ran into the Doctor again, I decided I'd had enough, handed in my resignation and took off again. Around that time Owen was planning marry a lovely girl named Katie. She was his soulmate in every possible way and I knew there was no more room for Friday nights in town with me anymore.

This time I took everything easier and was only gone for about three months. But, when I came back, reality kicked in... Katie had died while I was flying over the Seven Seas... and I hadn't been there for my best mate. I had failed him and I had to watch him turn into a wreck. To only thing keeping us alive became Torchwood. I got a job there almost immediately. Owen was already on the R&D team, as a supervisor, just in case some test flight went badly, and I had been recommended by one of my superiors, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, the only man I ever respected from the whole lot. We're a freaky gang... antisocial... weird... And our fearless leader, for the past two years or so, is Miss Gwen Cooper... a lovely girl who, until recently, had been hoping that I'd set my sights on her, once and for all. But I managed to clear the air with her, finally… It seems that this trip to Cardiff has opened my eyes in some important ways and convinced me to put a little order in my life. Hmm." Jack frowned as he finished his side of the story. "Any questions?"

"For now, just one: are you going to leave again? I mean... with the Doctor..." Blue met blue.

"I don't know... Had you asked me this last week, I might have said yes... but now, I'm not so sure anymore." He sighed. "Hey Ianto…"

"What?"

"Will you be my date for Owen's wedding?"

* * *

I hope you liked this chapter (as it's probably the most important one in the whole story) and if you didn't, well, you're free to flame me ;)

Next time, THE WEDDING! Stay tuned!


	8. Tears and stitches

Disclaimer: Don't own it, whatever it is (Torchwood, etc.)

Alright, it's time to say a big THANK YOU to all those who read, reviewed, alerted/faved *bows politely* as we are steadily approaching the end. It's not written yet, but I'm getting there. Also, my exams are about to start in a week or so and this story just HAS to be finished by then, because otherwise I'll focus on other things and unwillingly drop it... Henceforth, I'll probably finish and post it before the week is out ;)

May you enjoy your reading...

* * *

Two weeks after Jack Harkness, world-renowned pilot and flirt, landed in Cardiff, Wales, the bells of St. Andrews Church rang cheerfully. Despite the rainy, cloudy, foggy and, at times, windy past weeks, that Saturday the sun was shinning at full, not a cloud could be seen in the sky and even the birds were making the best of this rare gem of a day, chirping noisily all over the city, encouraging people to come out and enjoy the fresh warm air, for a change.

Similarly, a not so large, but horribly noisy crowd had made its way to the church's entrance in the sunny hours of the morning, taking over any last minute preparation not yet completed, or not completed in the best way possible.

"Stop acting like five-year-old brats! Emma, stop rearranging the flowers."

"But they're not standing straight!"

"That's because you've been fussing over them for the past hour! Suzie, what did I say about bringing police scanners at the wedding?"

"But they're about to catch the Brainbridge thief! The chase is on, as we speak!"

"I don't care! Turn off the radio and put those headphones away! And John, would you stop interrogating the priest about the "DaVinci Code"?"

"But he agrees with me!"

"That's because you're almost strangling him!" Gwen Cooper shrieked again, her voice echoing around the large hall.

"Is she always like this?" Ianto Jones mused from his seat, two rows farther down, while watching the dark-haired Welshwoman try to keep still the largest part of her team, which resembled a kindergarten class high on sugar, rather than one of the best-paid and most sought-after teams in the whole country, in terms of physics and innovations in the field of aerodynamics.

"More or less. But I tell, it's much more fun to watch from afar than be in the middle of the action and cause the most trouble." Jack Harkness turned to his date and grinned wolfishly when the young man chuckled.

"If you say so…"

"Although, I have to admit that this is the first time in recorded history I actually watch from afar… but it's a very interesting experience and I plan on repeating it… a lot, as long as you're interested in repeating it with me." The pilot gently nudged the tailor in the ribs and shifted closer.

"And Jack, stop harassing Ianto!" the loudest remark almost boomed around the church.

"Oi! He's my boyfriend! Harassment comes with the territory!" he shouted back and was rewarded with wolf-whistles and applauses, under the perplexed and somewhat frightened look of a powerless priest.

"Look at him! He's about to collapse from all that blushing!" Gwen refused to step down and let it go. Jack finally had the decency to look guilty, but made no attempt to slide further away, as Ianto's blood returned to his face again, for what must have been the tenth time that day… and it was barely eleven o'clock.

"When is this thing supposed to start again?" he managed to ask after recomposing himself… barely.

"Around noon."

"So why did we come here this early?"

"Restlessness." Jack explained. "Owen's been tearing down my nerves for a couple of days now and couldn't wait to arrive here, this morning, just in case Diane decided to come early too and finally get this over and done. So, being the best man that I am, I had to come down with Owen… and the kindergarten class too, since their attention span lasts about five minutes and they're better managed when together in the same room… and you had to come because you're my date and you also have the moral obligation to stop me from killing Owen if need be."

"How so?" Ianto asked with a confused smile.

"Well, after bailing me, Gwen and Owen out of jail, I figured that you do provide some exceptional services for your customers. So I was thinking that you should start an insurance policy: every person that comes to you for a suit also gets the certainty that they'll wear it… and since the best suits you make are fit for weddings and similar celebrations… voila!"

"You're not making any sense." Ianto sadly shook his head. Jack seemed to have a reply prepared, but was interrupted by his telephone. Checking the screen, he groaned.

"It's Owen. Be right back." He stood up and made his way through the rows towards the side door that led to the waiting chambers: one for the bride – still empty, in this case; one for the groom – currently still occupied. "What's up?" Jack bounded inside the room, only to meet the sight of a panicked Owen, on the verge of a heart-attack. "Owen?" he asked seriously and walked close enough to notice a large hole in his suit jacket. "What did you do?" his eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"I only moved about for a bit." The medic answered, but too quietly for that to be the truth.

"Owen!" Jack warned dangerously.

"Alright, I wanted to check out the window grates." He pointed with a weak hand at one of the large open windows, blocked by a set of heavy iron grates, sculpted in the form of ivy. The pilot moved over and inspected the heavy art piece… until his eyes met the sight of a large enough piece of black thread… about half a metre higher than normal, especially for a man of Owen's height. And that only meant one thing…

"You tried to climb the grates on the inside, didn't you?" he accused seriously.

"It was just a bit of exercise." The medic whined pitifully.

"You know, if you changed your mind and wanted to get out of here, you wouldn't have to do something like this. You know that everyone in that church will respect your decision, no matter what that is, right?"

"I didn't want to get out of here. It was really, just a bit of exercise… I'm getting married today… isn't there a rule saying that people are allowed to do stupid things around such big events?"

"Not really… but I'll let you off the hook this time." Jack grumbled. "What the hell are we going to do with your jacket?" he pointed lamely at the piece of cloth Owen had discarded over the back of a chair.

"No idea."

"Alright. Here." He said and took off his own jacket, throwing it to the groom. "You try that on while I go and see if Ianto can help." He quickly made his way out and back inside the church, missing the disbelieving look on his friend's face.

"Everything alright?" Ianto asked the moment Jack reached him, jacket-less and a bit out of breath.

"Not really." He answered with a grimace and crouched down, next to the tailor's legs. "You don't happen to have a needle and thread handy, do you?"

"What did you do to your jacket?" the young man glared at him.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I'll have you know that it's not MY jacket… it's Owen's." At this bit of information, the Welshman let out a deep sigh and got up, also pulling Jack with him. Without a word, he led them out of the church, into the parking lot and down to his car. There, he opened the trunk and picked out a large suitcase.

"I should charge you for this." Ianto grumbled while they were quickly making their way back through the rows, trying not to attract Gwen's attention, as she might've turned the whole misdeed into a national alert.

"Only if I can pay you in kisses." The pilot winked back.

"I'm not making out with you in, behind or anywhere near a church."

"I wasn't talking about the church. I mean your place or mine… which, technically is Owen's, but since he and the Mrs. will be out, I was thinking that we could take advantage of that… you know, mess with Owen's bathroom shelf, wash whites and colours together… generally piss him off. Lord knows he deserves it." He detailed his evil plan and snuck his left hand into Ianto's right one.

"Let's take one thing at a time. First I'll fix his coat, then we'll watch the ceremony and we can think about currency later on." The tailor answered and squeezed Jack's hand, before letting go and entering the waiting room first.

"Thank God!" Owen exclaimed upon seeing them. They both looked up and promptly burst out in laughter: the medic was indeed wearing Jack's much too large and long jacket, making him look like an underfed alien or, worse, a teenager trying to fit his father's clothes for some school dance.

"Sorry." Ianto was the only one to apologize. "Let me have a look at that." He made use of the table and chair inside the room to place, open and almost empty the case, which contained, in an ungodly order, everything a tailor would need in order to make a whole new suit, not just repair a damaged one.

"Wow."

"I like to be prepared for anything… and, after getting to know you two, I was sort of expecting something like this to occur."

"Ianto, you wound me!" Jack let out a dramatic gasp.

"Nice." Even Owen whistled.

"Now, it won't be as perfect as a sewing machine's stitches, but it will do." Ianto had finished threading the needle and was now just standing next to his kit, staring at them expectantly. Two questioning looks were returned to him. "I usually like to work in silence. It helps me sew better and faster, so, if you don't mind…"

"Right. We'll just be in the church." The medic nodded and evacuated the room, a struggling pilot in tow. "I can't believe my luck… and I can't believe yours too… I'm thinking we both made a mistake by not visiting Wales until now."

"I've been thinking the same thing… for the past two weeks."

"What are going to do after the wedding? I mean, you have to go back to London…"

"I'll commute, if necessary. Weekdays in London and weekends in Cardiff. It's like getting the best out of two different things." Jack's smirk faltered as the two men entered the church, heading towards their lovely co-workers. Suddenly, Owen stopped and turned, eyes staring determinedly up at his friend.

"You won't be able to hold that forever… You'll be tired on Mondays for work and we both know how evil Gwen can be. So… I was thinking. You could get a job here… As an airline pilot or something… maybe work with Diane… might help you two clear out your differences… especially now. After all, I don't reckon that it'll be easy for you to have both your boyfriend and best friend miles away." Owen grumbled and shifted from one leg to the other.

"Aww, Owen!" Jack squealed, actually squealed, and gave the wiry man a bear of a hug. "I'll just be one phone call whenever you feel lonely. And besides, I'll be in London, England, not Kathmandu, Nepal. We'll see each other every weekend… you and your future Mrs… who, by the way, is a bit late." He made a show of bringing up his watch and pointing at the hour.

"You're such a girl, Harkness." Owen just growled, detached himself and walked to his group of so-called friends. And since they had all observed the exchange, they were now busy teasing them with catcalls. The next minutes passed in a blur of congratulations, best wishes and even farewells, which killed all the conversation and made the whole thing awkward. Finally, about fifteen minutes later, Ianto calmly walked inside the church, reached behind the medic and promptly helped him into his freshly stitched jacket. "You know, I think it looks better than before."

"Leave the judging to the professionals." The young tailor straightened himself as he stood next to his date.

"And not a moment too soon." The medic continued, eyes suddenly wide, as he stared at something behind all of them. Like a unitary organism, the whole group turned their heads and met the sight of the bride-to-be… except something wasn't right. Hastily, Owen darted between them and almost ran to Diane.

"Isn't she supposed to wear a white dress? Lace, frills, flowers… a white veil?" Ianto automatically asked while surveying the unusual couple.

"Something's wrong." Jack only managed to whisper back. A moment later, he gazed meaningfully at his date and, the tailor, having caught his stare, nodded his understanding.

"Why don't we all go and sit in the front?" he walked next to Gwen and spoke loud enough to get the entire group's attention from the couple behind them. He was rewarded with two glares and some confused stares, but they all complied eventually, leaving only Jack behind, who had stealthily snuck behind a large vase of flowers at the end of a row, close to the couple.

"Diane. You're here. For a moment there I thought you were going to stand me up." Owen joked, trying desperately to miss the obvious signs she was sending him. "Also, I know you love your vintage aviator's outfit, but hadn't we agreed that you'd wear a traditional dress?" he teased her and leaned forwards a bit, in order to catch her hands in his. She was a still as a statue… while he was trembling.

"Come with me, Owen." She was looking up at him, but he did not dare raise his eyes from their joined limbs.

"You could have told me about this and I would have brought my white coat. Make one of those funky weddings out of this." He went on.

"Come with me." She pleaded again.

"And to think I warned Jack against cosplaying at my wedding…" he laughed dryly.

"Owen!" she raised her voice and he finally looked up, confusion and pain written in big bold letters all over his face.

"I'll come with you wherever you want, after we go through with this."

"Owen, a man from the military visited me earlier this week and he offered me a once in a lifetime chance: to be a cargo pilot for mission soldiers. Just imagine it, you and me, doctor and pilot, saving the world." She laughed and broke away from his touch, only to card her finger in his hair.

"Dammit, Diane. You know how I feel about those thing, especially after what happened to Jack." He growled, his composure slipping away slowly.

"But Jack is Jack… and we're invincible." She whispered and he thought her insane, even if for just a moment.

"We're all humans… and we're all just as vulnerable and timeless." He pulled away from her touch. "I want to settle down. I want to get married and have kids. And I want to do it with you!" he shouted and heard as the sound echoed throughout the church. "I bought a practice here. I'm retiring from Torchwood. I did it so I could stay here, while you fly your planes and tourists." He confessed with a hollow voice.

"And we can do that later. Why do you want to tie us down now, when we're still so young, before we ascertain your freedom?"

"We live in England, in the twenty-first century, how much more freedom could you possibly wish for?" he demanded.

"This freedom has rules and labels. Do you really want that? I'm talking about a complete freedom, where you can do whatever you want!"

"And what if what I want is to nestle? To stay out of danger's way and enjoy this… my freedom's rules and labels? Forget it." He started shaking his head, desperation taking over his body, as his shoulders slumped and his fingers began untying the cravat around his neck. He turned around and started walking towards the altar, failing to notice Jack as he passed by him.

"If you won't come with me, I'll ask Thomas… and he will." She followed him shortly and called out, just as Jack was ready to get up from his hidden seat. Owen froze… then turned slowly.

"Four years… four years of relationship and all you can give me is an ultimatum regarding you on-and-off lover?" rage started consuming him, turning his breath ragged. "Alright, go if that's what you want. Obviously I'm not enough, so go ahead! See the world, be free… and let's see exactly what your freedom will do for you, when you'll be shot out of the sky above enemy territory in some God-forsaken country! Farewell, Diane." He bid her goodbye and turned away again, refusing to watch her tearstained face and her retreating back as she ran out of the church, wearing the ancient pilot outfit. Still, he couldn't walk too far and he soon found himself guided towards a wooden bench, by a strong hand. Jack.

Owen crouched into his seat and hid his face in his hands, refusing to hear or see anything… refusing to understand and accept what had just happened… just refusing. And all the while, Jack, good old Jack, just sat next to him silently. Not touching him, not comforting him… not even saying the annoying "I told you so" that was definitely glued to his tongue. No sounds were heard even from the front rows, where the team was still huddled, under the pitying gaze of a skinny priest… until a set of steps echoed off the stone walls, walking right up to him. The moment they stopped, somewhere in his immediate vicinity, a strong hand took hold of the back of his jacket and hauled him from the wooden bench, forcing him to open his teary eyes and glare at the intruder.

"Come on. Sitting here all day won't do you any good." Ianto Jones' pronounced Welsh vowels filled his ears.

"And what do you think I should do, almighty tailor?" He growled rudely. Jack was still sitting down, not making a move to help either of the two.

"Get drunk, forget, remember and move on." The younger man answered, then promptly started pulling him towards the exit, at an incredible pace. Jack finally sat up, but only to signal the team in front of the church and follow them outside.

Needless to say, by six o'clock, Owen Harper was passed out on the tailor's large sofa, thanks to the incredible amount of alcohol he had imbibed in record time, during the previous hours.

* * *

I'm sorry for all Diane fans reading this, but I found her a bit odd in the series, especially when flying away through the Rift. Might be an explanation for my mental depiction of her in this fic *whistles* Anyway, next chapter will be a slightly longer one, containing some epiphanies and a good dose of Tosh!

As usual, you know what the review link below is for ;)


	9. Wires and explorations

Disclaimer: Whatever it is, don't own it (Torchwood, etc.)

As usual, thank you for reading/reviewing/alerting/faving.

This is officially the longest chapter in the whole fic, because let's face it, the characters deserved it ^^ The last count is ten chapters, not counting the short prologue (I haven't finished the last one, but the ideas are in my head, waiting to be poured on paper... or rather... the keyboard?

May you enjoy your reading...

* * *

"Think he'll be fine?" Jack Harkness asked while gazing down at the fully-clothed figure slumped on his boyfriend's large sofa.

"Eventually… After all, he's not the first and definitely won't be the last to go through such events. He'll recover. He'll have to." Ianto walked by the American and approached the sleeping man in order to cover him with a blue duvet.

"Thank you, Ianto." Jack stopped the Welshman from walking away and gazed into his baby blue eyes.

"Hey, wasn't it you who said that I provide some exceptional services for my customers?" he teased with a tired, but sincere smile that made Jack want to melt. It had been a long day for both of them, meeting early in the morning in order to accompany the groom to the church, not killing the rest of the Torchwood R&D team and watching Owen's world collapse.

Following Diane's departure, Ianto had grabbed the medic and led him to the closest pub, where, under Jack's supervision, he had proceeded with getting the man drunk. For the rest of the day, they had both listened to his life story, told through hiccups, pints of lager and even occasional tears. And when the words had finally ceased, they had each grabbed a shoulder of the slumbering man and brought him to Ianto's flat, above the tailor shop.

"Won't we be intruding? And besides, I've got my set of keys to his flat. I can manage him tonight." Jack had argued half-heartedly.

"Not if he decides to so something stupid. Here he won't succeed because doesn't know the house and he'll be confused before anything else. That and, in the morning, we'll all need a strong cup of coffee." Ianto had replied while fishing out his keys and unlocking the front door.

"What about Tosh?" The tailor had checked the time.

"It's after 2 in the morning, so she's probably out cold. She never wakes up before ten or eleven, so we should be ok." He had explained and ushered them inside his flat.

Now, as they both stood in the middle of the living room, Jack couldn't help but fidget. He liked this man more than he could describe in words and he felt mortified over the events that had involved them during past two weeks. No man or woman he'd ever dated had met his friends and co-workers during the first months of their relationship… and since most of his relationships never lasted longer than a month or two, such embarrassing introductions had never really been necessary. Until he had met Ianto Jones, with his exquisite suits, orgasmic coffee and black furry pets. How he had managed to embarrass himself so often in such a short time, he'd never be able to tell.

Jack stole a peek at the man next to him: so prim and proper… a true professional at his work and a model citizen outside it… He had just taken one look at his mismatched group of friends and declared that he liked them. But then again, this was also the man who had unwillingly made Jack Harkness wish for a real relationship and a life in Cardiff.

"My tailor extraordinaire…" the pilot sighed out loud and spoke with a caring smile, his eyes gazing lovingly at the younger man. Ianto glanced at him and turned crimson at his words. "You've seen me at my worst and yet you still agreed to date me." He grabbed onto one of his hands and caressed it gently with warm fingers.

"I can't quite explain my decision either." He confessed.

"I should have really come to Cardiff years ago. Now I'm just feeling as if we've lost time and that makes me want to sulk." Jack spoke and made his boyfriend chuckle.

"It's odd, isn't it? Ever since you walked into my shop…"

"Less than one hour after touching Welsh ground for the first time in my life, no less."

"And started flirting with me shamelessly, we've both been acting as if we knew that we were going to end up together one way or another."

"Why fight against destiny?" Jack solemnly asked.

"You believe in destiny?" Ianto found that impossibly hard to comprehend.

"How can I not? Here I am, Jack Harkness, notorious philanderer, tamed after a mere couple of weeks spent in Cardiff, Wales. And then, there are the signs: I love coffee, you make the best coffee in the world; you're a tailor, I practically look like a model. We're a match made in Heaven." He whispered in front of Ianto's lips and grinned madly.

"If you say so." The young man sounded uncertain, but smiled back. "So, now that Sleeping Beauty is tucked in, shall we get some rest as well?" he asked after a ferocious yawn.

"Mr. Jones, I do believe you're trying to compromise my virtue." Jack tried to sound outraged but failed by a mile. In response, the tailor just glued his lips to the pilot's for a minute, then disappeared into his bedroom, leaving the door wide open. For a minute, the American felt almost star-struck. Then, recomposing himself, he calmly followed the Welshman and promptly shut the door for the rest of the night.

* * *

The first thing that Owen Harper, MD for Torchwood's R&D division, felt after a whole night spent in drunker stupor, was a warm weight placed over his chest, that kept tickling his skin for some reason, with each breath he took. Although he had awoken, he did not dare open his eyes yet, as he felt the distant signs of a massive hangover approach him, slow but steady. Still, after a few minutes of not being able to breathe normally, he did manage to crack one eye open and let out a mighty swear, as his head started thudding painfully and the light, peeking through the windows above the sofa he was currently sprawled over, hurt his eyes.

When he did managed to focus properly, he met a sight that truly made him cry out and crawl to the far end of the sofa: a large black feline was sitting on his chest, examining him with cold green eyes, as if it was ready to take a chunk out of his face. Still, he escaped unmarred, as his frantic movements brought additional pain in his head, but forced the black devil off him and onto the cream carpet covering the floor. Once below, the feline merely shrugged and turned around, disappearing somewhere at a royal pace, that also included its large fluffy tail moving about from one side to the other.

In perfect silence, Owen watched the almighty cat disappear and desperately tried to remember the past day. Where was he? How had he got there? These were just two of the questions that filled his mind while he took in the clean and neat flat. This couldn't be his… and it couldn't be a hotel either, as it screamed of personal touches one would never encounter in a hotel, no matter how pricey.

Eventually, while experiencing drumming hammers in his temples, the medic managed to get up from the warm couch and roam around for a bit, trying to find someone… or rather, someone human, who could at least point him to the nearest bathroom. Instead, all he got were the huge open-space living room and a hallway with several closed doors he did not dare open. After a few minutes of confusion, he did manage to find the front door though, which he unlocked and opened. This task proved pointless as well, as he took in the stairway of a completely unfamiliar building: a duplex maybe? Perhaps owned by someone he might have hooked up with last night?

No, he did remember Jack being there, along with someone else. And Jack never let him go home with unknown people, especially while intoxicated at that level. And besides, if he had hooked up with someone, wasn't he supposed to have woken up in a bed, next to them? Questions upon questions.

Suddenly, a faint noise coming from the next floor drew his attention.

"Hello?" he called out as loud as he could without hurting his head even more, then proceeded with carefully climbing up the stairs, holding tightly onto the railing. As he got closer, two more noises came out of the flat above, followed by what could have been a grumble… and a human one at that. "Is anyone there?" he inquired again, having noticed the door open and entering the flat carefully.

The first thing that hit him was the huge difference between this flat and the one below it. Although the same general architecture was maintained, this apartment was drowned in clutter, resembling a warehouse for various computer parts with a very bad archiving system, rather than a human home: there were wires and bleeping lights and monitors everywhere he looked. He did trip once or twice over the multitude of wires, but managed to keep his body intact, even with his reflexes still drowsy from the amount of alcohol still present in his system.

Finally, just as he was about to give up, he saw a silhouette crouched next to some main units, bustling about apparently in search for something, and walked up behind it.

"Excuse me." He spoke as quietly as he could, but was rewarded with a mother of all shrieks that made his head explode in pain and forced him to almost double over. The silhouette had jumped up and turned around in a flash, small slender hands holding onto a plastic keyboard as if it were a life thread. Looking up, Owen Harper met the sight of a small and slender dark-haired woman with Asian features, that had obviously just crawled out of bed, if he were to judge by the messy short plait poking out from around her neck, her blood-shot eyes that kept narrowing as if she was trying to get a focus on his face, her pink pajamas and the fluffy bunny sleepers she wore.

"Who are you?" she demanded, voice coming out a bit raspy, but fierce enough for his thudding temples nonetheless. "And I'm warning you, I've got a keyboard and I'm not afraid to use it!" she warned dangerously and produced her "weapon" of choice. Had he not been in such pain, Owen would've already died from laughter by now.

"For Heaven's sake woman, can you please stop screaming?" he asked as if in agony, rubbing his temples like mad.

"Who are you?" Obviously she didn't obey him, since he WAS a complete stranger who might have, for all his knowledge, just broken into her house.

"Owen Harper… now, could you please not speak so loud?" he begged with a groan.

"What are you doing here?" the woman went on, obviously still distressed over finding a strange man in her flat. This time, she accompanied her words with a few steps in his direction, while waving menacingly the blasted keyboard. The medic had no choice but to step back, away from the strange, and obviously a little mental, woman and into a door… probably the front door, which was now miraculously shut, instead of wide open, as he had left it. Maybe there was someone else in the flat, besides them.

"Look, I can't remember how I got here, but please, trust me, I'm not here to hurt you." He tried desperately to plead with her, while attempting to unblock the door's handle.

"Right, since all strange men, that barge into other people's houses, do so without any malicious intent whatsoever." She growled, now obviously fully awaken.

"I'm not lying to you." Owen stared right into her eyes, his left hand, hidden behind his body, still trying to work out the handle… A moment later, he managed. "I'm sorry for having troubled you, pardon my intrusion." He spoke hurriedly, twisted the handle roughly, turned around, opened the door… and walked right into a broom closet now used for storing various objects… that literally fell on him the moment he bumped into the numerous shelves.

"Oh my God!" he heard the woman squeak right before a quite heavy unknown object collided with his head.

* * *

Meanwhile, as the good Dr. Harper was trying to find some help as silently as possible and was gloriously failing to do so, some NC-17 happenings occurred in Ianto Jones' bedroom. Having woken up the first, with his arms full of sleeping Welshman, Jack Harkness decided to wake up his boyfriend in a most devilish manner possible.

"Stop that!" the young man had barely managed to gasp out, as his consciousness quickly turned awake under the talented pilot's ministrations. The American suddenly sat up in bed, duvet caught over his shoulders, towering over his lover and staring down with hungry eyes at the feast laying before him. Slowly, he lowered his body over Ianto and trailed his lips over his chest, along his neck and up to the plump cherry lips he didn't think he could live without anymore.

"Oh, I don't think you want that, Mr. Jones." He lowered his mouth and proceeded with ravishing his lover and turning him into a quivering mass. A long while later, he broke away from the kiss and started teasing the young man.

"Don't do that…" Ianto almost whined through deep breaths of much needed air, while feeling clever fingers naughtily play over his sensitive skin. A tickle here, a kiss there and he was ready to explode. "Jack… Ah!" his eyes opened widely, staring at the ceiling above them, but not really seeing anything, as Jack began exploring new territory.

"Ah, indeed." The pilot's chuckle was heard from somewhere above Ianto's stomach. The tailor, lowered his big, almost scared, blue eyes and watched his lover's head disappear beneath the duvet. A moment later, his head rolled back into the fluffy pillows as his body nearly arched off the bed, hands clawing at the sheets beneath.

"Oh God!"

* * *

"Oh God!" the woman exclaimed once the medic was safely buried at the bottom of a rather impressive-looking pile of… well, stuff. "Hang on!" she started digging through the pile, throwing things off him. "Are you alright?" she looked down in genuine concern, even though she had been threatening him with a keyboard, just moments before.

"Owwwwww!" Owen groaned loudly and rubbed a free hand over the bumped place, grimacing when he noticed blood staining his fingers. "What the hell was that anyway?" he complained and sat up in the sea of things, fishing out a quite heavy black kettle, obviously of Asian origin and obviously made of iron. "Why would you have something like this in a closet?" he turned to the woman kneeling next to him and pointed accusingly at the vile object.

"It was a gift from my mother!" she huffed out in outrage and stood up. "And why should you care? It was you who walked into my closet like a madman and destroyed the shelves!" she retorted loudly and pointed at the mess behind the opened door. Owen flinched.

"I thought it was the front door! Why didn't you warn me?"

"I had no idea what you were trying to do! And besides, why would I graciously offer assistance to a strange man who barges into my house like a thief?" At this, Owen swallowed whatever rude retort would've generally come out his mouth and looked away guiltily.

"I told you, I have no idea where I am." He answered quietly and crossed his arms over his scrawny chest, while still sitting on the floor. "Why would a thief, any thief… ugh, rob a house he doesn't remember seeing in his entire life, while experiencing the mother of all hangovers?" the woman rolled her eyes at this, but did seem to calm down.

"Here." She reached out to him and carefully helped him up, after what seemed quite a long deliberation. Surprisingly, instead of shoving him out the door and slamming it in his face, she led him through the labyrinth of wires and computer parts, to a ragged armchair, that turned out surprisingly sturdy and comfortable. Thankfully, the medic drowned in its pillows and allowed himself to close his eyes for a bit, after watching the dark-haired woman disappear from his view. A minute later, the smell of alcohol woke him up: his "host" was now sitting on a central unit next to him, a first-aid kit opened in her lap.

"Don't scream." She warned with a surprisingly gentle voice and started cleaning his forehead with alcohol wipes. Curiously enough, instead of complaining and insisting on cleaning his own scrape, as he usually did, especially when at Torchwood, Owen relaxed and allowed the woman's steady feminine hands carefully treat his forehead. "Sorry, but cartoons are all I have." She quietly apologized as she stuck a band-aid to his forehead… a yellow band-aid that featured Buggs Bunny. "Now, are you ready to have a normal conversation, or do I have to wake Ianto up?" she spoke as if he was a preschooler and that irked him just a bit.

"Wait… Ianto… as in Ianto Jones?" A light bulb finally lit. She nodded. "Blue eyes, dark hair… tailor?"

"You know Ianto?"

"Yeah… he made my wedding suit." He explained while trying to focus on the fuzzy memories that seemed to resurface from some hidden corner in his subconscious. "And the suit for my best man too…" he stopped short the moment he recalled his almost-wedding… Diane… the church… Jack… Ianto… and an evening filled with alcohol… the imbibing kind.

"Jack's suit!" the woman spoke and a smile blossomed on her lips. "You're Jack's best friend! The one marrying the shrew!" she concluded, then slammed a hand over her mouth, mortified of what she had just said, cheeks turning red. Owen took a good look at her… then smiled too, the skin around the corners of his eyes and mouth wrinkling.

"Don't do that… You're right… Jack's right… Everyone is right… Diane is a shrew!" he sighed. "One that I didn't marry."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. Looking back, it's definitely for the best. Now, at least, I can stop trying to pretend and get on with my life. Say, do you have any coffee?" he glanced at the woman who was now listening quietly.

"Sorry. My coffee is rubbish. But Ianto's is to die for." She pointed at the floor below their feet.

"I know. I've had the pleasure." He nodded. "Sadly though, Ianto wasn't anywhere in sight when I woke up. Hence, my search party up here." He waved a hand to point at the entire flat. Then, taking a closer look at the mess around him, he couldn't help but ask. "Sorry, but what did happen around here?" The woman blushed.

"It's my annual." She said, as if that explained everything.

"Your annual what?"

"Oh, right, you're a doctor. Every six months or so, new components and configurations become available on the market. Sadly, I don't yet have enough resources to change my computers every six months, but I buy what I can and need every year. And when I get the new parts I bring everything out from storage, change and reconfigure what I can salvage, send to recycling what I can't. Yesterday, while Ianto was out, my spare parts arrived and the mess that you now see is the product of a sleepless night. I should be done by the end of next week, when this will resemble a home again." She shrugged. "You know what? Today's Sunday. Which means that Rhiannon is already downstairs, serving coffee. And while she may not be as good as her brother, she does come quite close in second. Let me treat you to a cup after I get changed. You can wait at the cafe. You just have to climb down the stairs and go right, through the curtains. I think you can manage it from the tailor shop, but if you can't, just shout." She smiled and disappeared for the second time that morning, leaving Owen in a daze.

"Wait! What's you name?" he shouted before she could get too far. Her messy black hair popped from around a corner.

"Toshiko Sato."

* * *

Meanwhile, as Owen Harper was busy with being confused over a certain dark-haired computer genius, hell was about to break loose in front of Ianto's tailor shop.

"Where the hell are they? Doesn't this house have a doorbell or something?" Gwen Cooper tried the tailor shop's door again, frantically pulling back and forth at the handle, in the hope that something might have changed, in the past half hour she had spent in front of the building made of red brick, and the door would open.

"What this? Trying to break into a mere tailor shop? Why, Miss Cooper, I imagined you would go for a bank or something similar, but never a tailor shop." An annoyingly familiar voice made her freeze in the middle of her efforts and slowly turn around in order to meet the smug ginger-head that she knew would have a grin spread over his lips. And how right she was!

"What are you going to do? Arrest me again?" she dared him loudly and fumed as he started laughing.

"Miss Cooper, if only all criminals were as bad at breaking the law as you are… Then Earth would be a safe planet." He sighed mockingly and smiled at her dangerous growl.

"I'm only trying to break the law because someone I know is missing and might be inside." She explained with wide gestures and pointed at the building behind her. He just stared at her as if she had grown a second head, then burst out laughing again.

"Neither Ianto nor Tosh are capable of holding anyone hostage. I've known them for years and they wouldn't hurt a fly."

"I'm not talking about a hostage situation, you…"

"Careful!" he stopped her before she could swear. "Even though my cells have grown quite accustomed to your presence there, I have a feeling you wouldn't appreciate yet another trip to the station."

"I didn't appreciate the first two trips either!" she almost shrieked.

"True… but those times either you or your friends were acting as threats for those around you. That's public disorder and we can't have any of it." He admonished.

"The hell you don't! Just wait for the next rugby match in the championship and I'll show you public disorder!"

"What's going on here?" a dark-haired woman wearing a long green apron suddenly appeared from behind the corner and asked with an irritated tone. "Oh, Rhys! What are you doing there, you daft man? Come here and get your caffeine fix!" she called out to the ginger-head, who just smiled and waved back at her.

"Hello, Rhia!"

"She called you daft! How come she can say that and get away with it and I can't?" Gwen demanded.

"Jealous, are we?" he leered down at her, then grabbed her left arm and proceeded with pulling her down the street. "Come on then. Instead of destroying private property, I'll treat you to a cup of coffee and we can ask about your "hostage situation"." He walked around the corner, where the woman from earlier was serving two people sitting at one of the small tables neatly placed about the street, in front of a well-hidden café.

"Rhia." He greeted her the moment she turned around.

"Rhys." She greeted back.

"Owen!" Gwen exclaimed when, looking at the two customers, she recognized one of them as her team's medic.

"Gwen." The man just nodded at her and took a sip of his coffee, eyes returning to his companion, a dark-eyed young Asian woman.

"Tosh!" a cheerful voice called out from inside the café and, a moment later, Jack Harkness appeared.

"Jack." She smiled up at him.

"Owen." Jack exclaimed, surprise written all over his face. "Gwen." He looked up and acknowledged his boss. "DCI Williams." He also nodded at the new arrival and promptly sat down, next to Tosh. "Ah, Rhia, you're an angel." He unleashed the full power of his dimples the moment a cup of heavenly smelling coffee made its way in front of him.

"Morning." Ianto also appeared from the café, surprisingly only wearing a t-shirt and jeans, an outfit that brought out his true age. "What?" he looked warily at the faces surrounding him, a frown bringing his eyebrows together. Then, six people suddenly burst out laughing and the Welshman felt his cheeks burning. He glanced down with an inquiring raised eyebrow at his lover, who just wiped tears of mirth from his eyes and pulled the Welshman down in the seat next to his. "What?" he demanded again, as three more chairs were squeezed in at their table, to be occupied by Jack's boss, The DCI and his sister.

"Nothing, nothing. Just a short unusual exchange of names, that's all." Rhia smiled at him and pulled him into a sisterly hug. "Isn't he the cutest when he's confused?"

* * *

Next two chapters will practically be two epilogues, which, if my muses and internet connection stay with me, should be up tomorrow evening and Sunday evening (please consider that my time is EET - Eastern Europe Time).

As usual, feel free to abuse the link below.


	10. Ideas and decisions

Disclaimer: Whatever it is, I don't own it (Torchwood, Doctor Who, Whiskas, The Scream, etc.)

And here is the first epilogue!

May you enjoy your reading...

* * *

It wasn't until the end of summer that Jack began to sense that maybe what his best friend had told him right before his almost-wedding wasn't too far from becoming reality.

June and July had passed by him in a blur of excitement. It was almost as a continuous road trip and Jack, with his passionate and out-going personality, hadn't minded travelling from London to Cardiff and vice versa at all, especially since it was only a couple of hours by train and he got a chance to relax after (on Friday evenings) and before work (on really early Monday mornings, generally accompanied by a thermos-full of exquisite coffee). But once the warm weekends and clear Welsh sky had begun changing into the general moody weather that described England's cold seasons, the pilot couldn't help but find waking up in the comfortable bed above Ianto's tailor shop and leaving while it was still dark outside, more and more tedious.

"Stay safe, ok? I don't want to see you scattered all over London on the eight o'clock news, alright?" Ianto's sleepy smile made him melt one late August morning, while they were waiting for his train to depart.

As expected, there were very few people around at that ungodly hour, so Jack had already laid his claim on a row of seats inside his designated carriage, by throwing his "over weekend" bag in a corner, below a window, and was now standing in the doorway, gazing at his lover. Morning Ianto wasn't that different from midday Ianto, but little things, such as the slightly ruffled hair, still sleepy eyes and occasional yawn, made him absolutely adorable. It broke Jack's heart to leave every Monday, because he had to set the alarm that would obviously wake both of them up and Ianto, ever the gentleman, just had to get dressed as well and escort him down to the station. Then they would exchange a few hugs and kisses, Ianto would ask him not to do anything stupid, especially while flying, and Jack would do his best at managing to keep himself inside his carriage, while the train pulled away from the station and towards London.

"I will. I promise." he climbed back onto the platform and launched himself into the Welshman's already opened arms, once again dreading the fact that he had to leave for the next five days, which would feel like eternity, by Wednesday at most.

"Morning." A voice grumbled, forcing the two lovers apart and making them ogle at the new arrival.

"Owen?" Jack almost gasped.

"No, it's David Tennant in disguise." The medic grumbled and rolled his eyes.

"In that case, you're missing a Dalek or two." Ianto argued back, making the sleepy and obviously unimpressed doctor glare at him.

"Is your bag inside?" he turned towards the pilot, who just nodded. "Right. Till next time." He called over his shoulder and walked into the carriage.

"If he hurts Tosh, I'll sew his lips and fingers together… manually." Ianto let out a ferocious growl, now fully awake.

"He won't dare do that. He likes Tosh too much and he's too scared of you and your cat to blow this up. It might be his last chance at a normal life, so he won't let it slip through his fingers… although I still think she's too good for him." He nodded.

"Definitely." Ianto narrowed his eyes for a moment, then grimaced as a loud whistle filled the air. "This is it then. See you next week." He leaned towards Jack and gave him one last kiss, before breaking away and watching him return inside the carriage and sit in front of Owen, who was already indulging in a cup of warm coffee. As usual, Jack sat glued to the window until the train left the station and he could no longer see the young tailor sitting on the empty platform, in the windy Monday morning.

"They announced rain for next week." Owen spoke after a long moment of silence spent watching the dark English countryside fly past them.

"What are we going to do?"

"Well, I don't know about you, but when the time comes, I've still got my practice."

* * *

"That's it!"

The IDEA hit Jack on Tuesday morning, three minutes before his alarm clock was set to go off. He sat up straight in bed, then started frantically searching for his mobile, an activity which almost led to the complete devastation of his flat. Three minutes later, after finally discovering the blasted thing and shutting his alarm, he called Suzy, only to have the connection closed several times and find himself the target of a long string of unrepeatable swears once she actually answered. Nevertheless, Jack managed to succeed in his preliminary actions, having persuaded the curly-haired woman to bring out the information he needed in order to turn the IDEA into a full-fledged PLAN.

Luckily, the information he had requested found the way to his desk in two days. Unluckily, his programmed test flights kept him away from the office and, once he'd got around to them, he discovered that the PLAN would need a lot more time than one day of work (namely Friday). That weekend had been the first one to be spent in London in over three months… and the following had been the second, much to Ianto's dismay. Yet, despite bitching and moaning to Owen (who had gone to Cardiff on his own) about his busy days and lack of heavenly coffee, Jack found himself regretting nothing. Because once the IDEA became a PLAN, it could be presented as a PROPOSITION and voted as a DECISION.

So, on a very early Monday morning (the third one in a row spent in London), he slammed a thick folder in Gwen Cooper's desk with a triumphant grin and asked all of his colleagues to have a look.

"Alright, whatever." Had been the general answer, which Jack already sort of expected, especially from this group of people, with little to no social or family life whatsoever.

"You're mad. And it's going to be so much fun watching Hartman obliterate you." Gwen had taken one look and smirked evilly. Apparently, the time she had recently spent in her hometown brought forth previously unknown traits: sadism and irritability. And it definitely had something to do with the DCI that kept calling her just to annoy her and hear her rabid screams into the phone. The ways of love were mysterious, alright.

Owen had, surprisingly enough, refrained from any verbal remark. Instead, he just threw his head back and started laughing.

Grabbing the folder and giving the medic a dirty glare, the American got out of the work area and walked towards the main offices, where he had already scheduled a meeting with their number one executioner: Yvonne Hartman, also known as Robocop, the Iron Maiden and several other rather suggestive names between her numerous employees.

During the next half hour, all sorts of noises came out of the She-Demon's office, some of which reminded the random by-passers of exploding nuclear bombs, gang fights, screeching cats and Shakespeare's "Taming of the Shrew". But, in the end, good won against evil… and Cardiff's geographic position prevailed in the battle against London's. That day, the DECISION became reality.

"Cancel all your appointments for Saturday." Jack commanded into his mobile the moment he came out of the Office-from-Hell, still standing and not bleeding to death, despite all odds.

"Why?" Ianto's voice came back puzzled and annoyed. The pilot could almost see before his eyes the tailor's dark brows pulled together in an adorable frown.

"Also, don't wait for me at the station. I'll come straight home." Home… such a lovely word.

"Why?"

"Because you're a model citizen and I'm sure you don't want your customers to see you getting ravished by your over-achieving boyfriend, in the middle of the platform."

"Good point."

"Ianto?"

"Hm?"

"I think I'm in love with you." The confession was immediately followed by splutters and stammers. Eventually, the connection was closed and Jack was left hoping that he hadn't caused his younger lover a heart attack.

"You're an evil man, Harkness." Owen walked by him and tsked, also sending him a sly look that made the pilot want to swat his best friend over the head.

* * *

"So what have you been doing while I was preparing the almighty PLAN of conquering all of Cardiff and its surroundings in the name of Torchwood?" the question came as they were attempting to recover their breathing, that week's Saturday evening. True to his word, Jack had arrived the previous day and promptly pounced on Ianto in the doorway of his home, practically carrying him to his bedroom, where he proceeded with ravishing the younger man within an inch of both their lives, but only after evacuating Bluffy from the room.

"Sewing, making coffee… designing."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Took me by surprise, to be honest. I was waiting for a customer and just began doodling on my registry journal with a pencil. Later on, I got a cancellation and before I knew it, I had completed two full sketches. I couldn't believe my eyes when I was through." He glanced at Jack and blushed at the sight of his proud smile.

"Can I see them?"

"Sure." He shrugged. "But don't get your hopes up. I haven't drawn anything since I left London years ago, so they're not mind-blowing or anything. They're not even professional designs… just doodles."

"They're drawn by you." The pilot spoke as he began playing gently with the tailor's hands. "By these talented fingers. That's all that matters to me."

"Jack?"

"Hmm?"

"I think I'm in love with you too." Ianto announced, quickly extracted himself from his lover's grasp and disappeared from the room in a blur of naked skin and fluffy dressing gown. A moment later, he returned with a stack of papers and a seriously disgruntled tomcat that immediately jumped on the bed and nestled among the covers, as the two men settled side-by-side leaning back against the bedpost, talking about the past three weeks and shuffling through the first twenty designs Ianto had managed to complete, in record time, since settling back in Cardiff.

"You should really show these to someone." Jack spoke a while later. The tailor just laughed.

"These aren't high quality or competition material. Besides, when I left London, I cut my ties to everyone I knew in the fashion industry. I'm sure nobody even remembers me anymore."

"But…"

"And also, if anyone were to see and like these, they'd want me down there. My life is here. I have my family and friends here, I have the tailor shop… and now I have you too." He smiled. "Don't tell me that you'd want me to start commuting now that you've transferred your whole team here."

"Well, not really." He admitted.

"By the way… you never did tell me how much you had to flirt with your boss in order to get your little plan accepted."

"Flirt? With Hartman!" Jack started as if burned and sent his lover a half-outraged half-incredulous look. Even his hair seemed to have raised up, much like the way the black devil, currently dozing off over their feet, would turn every time something irritated him. Ianto started chuckling at the sight of Jack impersonating Edvard Munch's "The Scream". "With Lucifer's bride? Never!"

"Don't tell me there actually is a person on this Earth that remains immune to your charm." He was now laughing out loud.

"That woman is immune to life, not just my charm!" Jack replied loudly. "Puppy eyes, Whiskas commercials, shoujo mangas, London under two metres of snow! You name something cute, fluffy or heart-warming, and she'll be immune to it!" By now Jack was almost standing on the mattress, while Ianto was wiping tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes. "Why do you think I'm so desperate every weekend to leave that city as fast as possible and get here?" he mimicked a sniffle.

"My divine coffee?" the younger man raised a teasing eyebrow and watched Jack start moving about the bed again. The American searched through the covers for a moment and fished out the almighty tomcat, holding him tightly over his chest.

"Bluffy." He deadpanned.

"You've got to be kidding." Ianto started laughing again.

"Mrreow!" the devil in question complained loudly, trying to free himself.

"Because he's cute, fluffy and heart-warming."

* * *

"What the hell are they doing down there?" Owen asked as he came out of Tosh's kitchen, holding two mugs of hot chocolate, since both of them were terrible at making a drinkable cup of the addictive beverage and generally only required it in the mornings, when either Ianto or Rhiannon would be up and about. In the flat's silence, he picked up faint noises that sounded a lot like the tailor's laughter.

"Obviously not what you've been thinking." Tosh smirked from her desk, eyes never leaving the screen of her computer.

"Surprising, considering Jack's stamina." The medic commented and walked up to her, carefully setting the two mugs on each side of the keyboard. "Scoot over." He instructed and she did, giving him the space he needed in order to settle next to her in the big comfortable armchair, that, despite its ragged appearance to the point of decomposition, could very well hold both of their thin figures: slender in her case, scrawny in his.

"Don't you ever get bored watching me work? After all, it's not like you understand programme codes." She asked quietly, hands playing over the keypads at an incredible speed, making more and more lines appear on the large screen in front of them. Owen just sat back and placed an arm over the back of the armchair.

"Not really." He shrugged and let his head fall back too, relaxing completely.

"Liar." She gently accused, selecting a line with the mouse and editing it.

"Am I a bother?" his head moved towards her quite uncomfortably.

"Not really." She shrugged as well.

"Then leave me be." He concluded and dropped his head back again, this time in a position from which he could watch her fingers at work.

"Let me guess, you have a hand fetish." Several long minutes passed before Tosh opened her mouth again. She sounded amused.

"Nope."

"Than why are you staring at my hands?" she inquired innocently, half of mind still focused on the dancing codes in front of her eyes.

"Because they're beautiful. You see, it would be a hand fetish if I got off at the sight of a certain type of hands… or just any type at all. But I don't… even though I've watched my fair share of hands performing surgery during Medical School."

"So… it's just my hands then." The fingers paused in their activity and she turned her head, gazing at him over her shoulder.

"It would seem so." Owen opened his eyes and returned her curious and surprised look. However, before he could do more than just stare at the lovely Japanese woman, a knock on the front door disturbed the silence around them. "It's open." He called out, glancing towards the hall, just as Tosh returned to her work. A moment later, a black furry thing crept inside the flat, followed by his much more noticeable companions: Jack and Ianto. "Oh, you still live then."

"Likewise." The pilot replied with a naughty grin, while the tailor turned red. Padding quietly towards the large armchair, Bluffy executed a perfect leap, landing right onto the medic's legs, before laying claim on Tosh's lap. "And what are you doing then?" the American continued with a leer as he took in the scene before him.

"Nestling."

"Ah, preparing for the long winter and all that." Not minding the two men, the computer genius sent her best friend an exasperated look over the top of her screen, shaking her head lightly. "You're not going to start laying eggs, are you? Because in that case, Owen, I'm afraid that you'll have to play mother hen and keep them warm until they're ready to hatch." The medic just glared at his once-upon-a-time best man.

"Don't worry. Even if we do lay eggs, we won't be the firsts to bring forth heirs. I do believe that honour belongs to that devil over there." He grumbled and pointed at the feline now draped all over Tosh, enjoying a full scale petting session, as the keyboard had been forgotten in favour of black fur. Three pairs of eyes followed his gaze and descended upon the happy cat.

"What are you talking about? Bluff if a tomcat." Ianto was the first to voice his confused thoughts.

"Some vet you would be." Owen snorted.

"Well, he did get awfully fat lately." Tosh acknowledge and lifted the feline in the air, trying to see something, anything past its black fluff.

"She." The medic rephrased.

"Are you sure? Maybe he just got fat from Jack's extra feeding."

"Ianto. I may not be a gynaecologist… but I'm pretty sure I can tell one gender from the other, even when it comes to felines. Congratulations, you are the owner of a very spoiled, very large pregnant cat."

* * *

The second one will be a bit longer than this one, I think... and it's still not 100% ready *cries* But I think I'll be able to post it on schedule.

I believe you know b now what the link below does *wink wink nudge nudge*


	11. White shutters and black iron grates

Disclaimer: Whatever it is, I don't own it (Torchwood, Merlin, BBC, etc.)

After a lot of inner arguments with my thoughts regarding the ending, this came out... I honestly I hope it's not disappointing. Oh, and something I should have probably mentioned at the beginning of the previous chapter as well: cuteness, fluff and cheesiness alert! ^^

May you enjoy your reading...

* * *

"Hey Ianto, have you seen my cufflinks?" the young tailor almost gasped and shut the closet's door violently, turning around and pressing his back to it. A moment later, Jack appeared in the bedroom's doorway, all dimples and smiles.

"Which ones?" the Welshman tried to sound as normal as possible, although he was obviously out of breath and was leaning awkwardly over the closet. Jack sent him a puzzled stare.

"The onyx ones." The Welshman made a show of staring at the ceiling above as if truly trying to remember something.

"Nope."

"Alright." Jack slowly answered, watching his beloved closely. "Maybe the devils got to them." Finally, he grumbled and exited the room.

"Make sure to check under the bed." Ianto yelled while moving away from the closet. A second later, three furry figures appeared in the doorway and stared up at the young man with twitching whiskers and curious eyes. With a smile, the tailor raised his finger and pressed it to his lips in a "hush" sign that, of course, only his above-average cats would comprehend. Naturally, the three felines did understand their master's soundless message and trotted out of the room in a complete chaos of tails and ears.

Myfanwy, Janet and Tamaki were the two-year-old products of Ianto's former tomcat and current crowned queen of the tailor shop, named Bluffy, and some yet unknown male feline, each of them technically belonging to one of the house's residents (Owen not included, since he had been the only one to actually participate in their birth and had claimed that his job was done regarding the little terrors).

Myfanwy had been the first to come out on a rainy September weekend, mere hours after the Universe was made aware of the fact that her mother was actually female and very pregnant. Ianto had taken upon himself the responsibility of giving the incredibly small kitten a name and, after carefully analysing her spotted fur in numerous tones of brown and receiving assurances regarding her gender, gave her the most Welsh name possible.

The next one had been Janet, who stole the headlights immediately with her shrilling cries and constant demands for attention. Surprisingly enough, she came out completely white and Jack was instantly smitten… which led to her very American name.

Last, but not least, the sole male kitten appeared, as black as his mother, but completely different in attitude. He was immediately assigned to Tosh, who gave him a general Japanese cat name: Tamaki (since Kuro would have been a too obvious choice).

And from their birth forth, they became a fearsome trio, especially in their owners' eyes, who kept giving them funny team names, such as: Charlie's Devils, Team Excalibur (especially after they had taken to watching The New Adventures of Merlin on BBC One, alongside Ianto and Tosh) or the Three Horsemen of the Apocalypse… Four, if you considered the mother as well, who now ruled with an iron claw over the entire red brick building.

"Did you find them?"

"No." Jack managed to get out from below the bed and shook his head. Janet immediately climbed up on the nightstand and sat in front of the struggling pilot, watching his ruffled hair curiously. "If you ate my cufflinks, I'm going to make a scarf out of your lovely fur, young lady." He pointed a finger at her and she replied with what might have been an indignant "mreow".

"What do you need them for anyway?" Ianto asked from the bedroom's doorway.

"The party tomorrow night. You know, my psychotic pseudo-boss and your insane DCI friend getting engaged and all that…" Jack detailed the moment he noticed the lost look in his lover's eyes. "Don't worry, I'm sure your present will be the best ever. The design for Gwen's wedding dress is amazing and the bridesmaids' dressed came out beautiful. They'll suit Suzie and Emma perfectly, although I still think that Matrix-like costumes would have been a much better choice." The pilot sniggered evilly.

"Gwen wanted a happy and feminine colour." Ianto scowled.

"Pale pink!" Jack exclaimed. "Pale pink for two women who kick the scientific community's arse by day and practice range shooting by night. I think she's trying to settle some score we don't know about, so she picked out a colour she knew they would hate. What she didn't count on was you managing to turn any colour and material into something brilliant. I think Suzie and Emma will be your friends forever, after this one." He grinned and winked at the tailor, getting up and dusting his trousers. "So, the black suit is out of the question since I can't find my cufflinks… what should I wear?" he asked and rubbed his split chin.

"You know, before we met you wore up to five colour at once. Look at you now: matching textures and accessories. I've rubbed off on you." Ianto declared proudly.

"In more ways than one." Jack walked up to him and pulled him into a tight hug, hands wondering all over his body, before Ianto could even register what his impulsive boyfriend was trying to do.

"It's the middle of the day, Captain, and I've got work to do." The Welshman laughed and tried to pry the naughty hands away from him. However, his efforts proved to be useless, as an equally naughty mouth launched a direct attack over his neck, jaw, lips, nose… practically whatever kissable surface they could touch.

"Not anymore you don't. You finished your rounds for today."

"And how would you know that?"

"I stole a peek at your registry journal earlier." Jack grinned predatorily, then simply lifted Ianto in his arms and sprawled him all over the bed. The tailor went down with a strangled yelp, then started laughing like mad, as the pilot began tickling him mercilessly, instead of engaging in the round of activities he had expected. "What are you hiding from me?" Jack asked one minute later, straddling Ianto's tights.

"Nothing." The man answered between loud gasps.

"Liar." He narrowed his eyes and went back to his previous actions. When he stopped the second time, Ianto was red-faced and out of breath, yet his lips still held a treacherous smile. "Tell me." The tailor just giggled and tried to hide his face away. "Tell me or I'll do it again." Jack wiggled his fingers in midair. When the answer failed to come, he proceeded again.

"Alright, alright, I'll tell." He finally succumbed and pleaded mercy. "I got a new shirt."

"Why would you keep that away from me?"

"Because it's red… deep red, actually." He answered and watched Jack's eyes darken with lust.

How typical. Over the past two years, Jack had developed a true passion for the combination of Ianto and red, to the point of obsession. It had all started with the first thing the pilot had ever told him, pointing out the fact that he looked amazing in red, instead of bidding him the usual morning salute the way other (normal) people did. From that point, it went berserk, especially after they had begun sleeping together. It went from shirts, to ties, to bed sheets, to pyjamas, to socks, to underwear, to caps, to his bedroom walls and to the silliest of things. Nowadays, he could not longer even have a blue or green toothbrush, because red was his colour.

Also, every time Jack came to the tailor shop and caught him mending something in the colour red, he'd get pounced on (or very close to), which was also weird, since most of those who wore red in their suits and dresses, were his father's old customers. "I'm surprise you haven't painted my cats red." Ianto had grumbled one weekend, when Jack showed up with red body paint and a grin that could have lit up the entire city of Cardiff for a month. The pilot had merely glanced up at Bluffy, who was sitting on the stairway railing, then back at the tube in his hand, as if trying to calculate whether he had bought enough of the substance. In response, Bluff got her lovely black self off the railing and quickly disappeared on Tosh's floor, while Ianto narrowed his eyes and almost let out a hiss, identical to his cats'.

Needless to say, Jack had spent that night on the couch and had learned to tone down his impulses in regard to the colour red. Still, the body paint was kept safe for another occasion… that had ended with the American having nightmares, as the colour was a little bit too close to that of blood… and dreaming Ianto covered in what seemed to be blood was not an experience to be repeated.

"Show me." The pilot whispered.

"No."

"Why not?" he whined.

"Because you'd only tear it from my body and I'd end up with nothing to wear tomorrow night." He complained and crossed his hands over his chest, still sprawled over the bed as he was.

"So you want me to tear it off you in the middle of Gwen's engagement party? Mr. Jones! Two years later and you still surprise me. I had no idea that you had such a kink for exhibitionism!" Ianto just rolled his eyes and tried to free himself.

"I don't! I'm just hoping that you might control yourself for once." He replied. "I, for one, am tired of doing nothing other than sewing buttons back on my shirts and mending torn material once a week, because you can't keep your libido on a leash."

"Alright. I'll let you go this time. But, in exchange…" Jack wiggled his eyebrow and launched his attack without further notice.

Except it wasn't a new shirt. Well, it was, but that was just an excuse in order to hide the other secret currently held by the same closet.

Later that evening, Ianto reopened its door and sighed deeply at the sight of a perfect black and white suit. Raising a hand, he touched the pressed material, admiring his own handwork and imagining what it would look like on the person he'd made it for: a long black redingote, a crispy white shirt, perfectly sewed trousers, a simple waistcoat and a white cravat arranged in three folds. It looked heavenly on the hanger.

At first, when the idea hit him, several months back, he had tried to make it for fun, curious to see if he had indeed reached the level where he could create a perfect suit without a single fitting. During the first weeks, he'd had some trouble with getting some lines straight and had almost considered making up some white lie that could get Jack into the dressing room. That had happened right before Tosh and Owen's wedding. It had been a very small affair, with not even all their friends present. One night, the medic had popped the question out of nowhere and Tosh had answered right away, evading the general havoc some ladies liked to cause around such particular events. The next day they had simply gone to the registry, along with the Jones family and a couple of Torchwood's employees. No large gatherings, no bridal showers, no church… not even a bachelor's party. The evening after his best friend's wedding, Ianto had climbed down to the shop, brought out the butchered prototype, shredded it and started anew.

Now it was Gwen's turn to get married, and to Rhys, of all people. And since the Welshwoman was the complete opposite of Tosh and craved for attention, she'd planned and gone through the whole ordeal that generally surrounded a noisy wedding. She was a lucky woman, because Rhys hadn't minded indulging his future bride, taking everything calmly.

And now, after three months of nicking free time here and there without arising any suspicions, Ianto had finished his suit… the suit he had designed and crafted for the man he loved… the suit that would only look perfect if worn by the said man… the suit that represented everything he was best at: a wedding suit.

He sighed again and dropped his shoulders. A furry tail wrapped itself around his left ankle and he glance down, only to see Bluffy, sitting right next to him, staring up at the closet with wide curious eyes. He smiled at the cat's antics, shut the door and leaned over in order to scoop up the former tomcat.

"I hope he'll say yes too… That is, if I'll ever get enough courage to ask…"

* * *

"You were absolutely right to keep this away from me." Jack had managed, through some miracle, to keep his mouth shut the entire drive to the Williams' party, up until they had arrived right in front of the fancy garden where the events was taking place. Ianto just gave him a smug smile and walked ahead of him, in order to congratulate the soon-to-be-wed couple and sit down at their designated table.

The party's third hour found the tailor chatting with Tosh, since Owen had been called on duty, thanks to some guards' "brilliant" idea of playing with some of the small air models exhibited in Torchwood Cardiff headquarters' main hallway, while Jack was spinning the bride-to-be in a parody version of "Rock Around the Clock", something normally impossible to perform while wearing a long pale green dress. Except that Miss Gwen Cooper was anything but normal and she just had to prove the world wrong over and over again.

"Excuse me for a moment." Ianto managed to stop the computer genius from launching in a heated monologue describing the reasons for which she preferred a certain brand of processors and got up from the table, disappearing into the garden's adjacent building. He had to admit that the party was a hit and the Gwen's choice for its location was perfect, since the summer temperatures were high enough to make the evening and night quite pleasant, with the starry sky providing a lovely background.

Suddenly he stopped in his tracks and, instead of heading towards the bathroom, turned in the opposite side and walked up to the wardrobe area, where a very friendly assistant welcomed him with an expectant smile. He barely managed to smile back, pulse suddenly going off the scale and heart ready to burst out of his chest, and nodded. A moment later, he was presented with a large square black box held closed by a crimson bow.

"Th-thank you." He stammered and received a brilliant grin and a supportive wink as reply. Clutching the box tightly with pale fingers, he slowly walked back towards the party, only to be scared to death by an arm slung over his back.

"Hey mate. Did I miss anything?" Owen asked casually, leaning a bit over him and peering down at the object in his hands. "I thought your wedding present were the dresses and suits." He looked up at Ianto and met his scared stare. "Not for the bride and groom then?" Ianto slowly shook his head. "I see. Try to calm down though. Getting a stroke in the middle of things certainly won't be of any help." He matched Ianto's pace and practically led him back to the garden, keeping a firm hold on the younger man's arm, just in case he collapsed. With a sigh, he turned his head and searched about, trying to find the American pilot. He was glad to see his old friend sitting down at his table and promptly pulled Ianto towards said location, dropping him into his seat next to Jack, without a word, and grabbing Tosh's arm in order to spin her around the dancing area for a bit.

For a minute, the tailor was able to focus only on his breathing, not noticing Jack's curious silence. Afterwards, as he gathered his wits and summoned the last bits of courage in his soul, he turned towards his lover and immediately noticed that something was wrong. He forgot all about the box. Jack Harkness was staring at the screen of his mobile. He wasn't touching the key pads, he wasn't talking and Ianto was pretty sure that he wasn't breathing either. He just sat there, holding his mobile and staring at it.

"What happened?"

"The Doctor called and asked me to be his pilot for an upcoming mission." Jack answered mechanically, but didn't even glance at him. Ianto suddenly felt his legs give in and wordlessly thanked Owen for having pushed him into the chair before he'd had the chance to fall to the ground.

"Did you give him an answer?" his tone was wary, but he'd managed not to stammer. Jack finally turned to him, eyes gazing into his own. Ianto hated it when he did that, because he could never guess during such moments what went on through the pilot's head. He was completely unreadable.

"Yes." Ianto swallowed hard, but didn't look away, no matter how much he wanted to have the power to do so. "I refused. I told him that I wasn't up for that kind of life anymore." His face morphed into a warm smile that made Ianto's inside tingle.

"Good."

"Is it?"

"Yes, of course. Because, had you given him a different answer, I would have been forced to throw this away." He explained and practically shoved the black box in his lover's hands. Jack glanced down at the present, then returned to Ianto's baby blue eyes.

"Is this whatever you've been hiding in that closet of yours? The reason for which you and the devils guarded that blasted thing as if it held the Koh-I-Noor?" his serious, reassuring smile quickly turned into his usual naughty grin.

"Yes."

"Can I open it in public?" he leaned over and whispered in his ear, making the tailor flush.

"It's not anything R-rated." Ianto rolled his eyes.

"Then what is it?"

"Why don't you open it and find out yourself?" Grumbling, the pilot finally complied and, carefully untying the bow and lifting the lid, he peered down at the black and white designs.

"Is this what I think it is?"

"Only if you want it to be." Ianto tried to sound as casual as possible.

"I do." Jack immediately answered, put the lid back, placed the box on the table and grabbed his lover in a bone-crushing hug. Thirty seconds later, he found his lips and began devouring them, only to be disturbed a short while later by a muffled squeak. "Stop staring, Gwen." He growled and glanced at the woman who had her hungry eyes locked on them, but never let go of his prey.

"Are you kidding? I've been trying to catch you two in the middle of… things for almost two years now. And all I usually get are a hug or two and a peck on the lips. This is practically hardcore stuff compared to your general behaviour in public. And I have to say that I'm both surprised and disappointed in that. I'd have expected more from you, Captain Jack Harkness!" she complained loudly.

"That's because Ianto's mine and I'm not sharing him, you, you voyeur!" he growled back and Gwen narrowed her eyes.

"Then what got this going on?" she gestured at their still glued bodies.

"He's decided to make an honest man out of me." Jack suddenly forgot all about Gwen's not so subtle actions and smiled widely, unleashing the power of his dimples upon the world and, if possible, squeezing Ianto even tighter.

* * *

It was a two-storey old building made of red brick, located somewhere behind Roald Dahl Plass, in a cobweb of little narrow streets, where you couldn't have fit a car even if you wanted to. It covered an entire corner and gave the old neighbourhood a sense of calm and hospitality, with its white shutters and black iron grates.

If anyone new in town were to see his lovely place, they might consider it the most quiet place on earth, where even time stopped for a cup of coffee and a silly round of gossip with the street's resident old ladies.

But, you know what they say, never judge a book by its covers. In this case, it would rather be never judge a building by its walls, for they hide more smiles and tears than anyone could imagine.

* * *

And here we are, approximately one month later, at the end. Thank you for your attention and support throughout my ten chapters (not counting the small prologue)!

For any last words, please use the link below...

Nah, just kidding! It looks like my days writing Torchwood fanfiction (especially of the AU kind) are not finished ;)


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